I retreated to the chaotic corner table scattered with crayons and plates of cold chicken nuggets, feeling the familiar sharp sting of my
family severely underestimating me. I sat down among the crying babies and quickly befriended a young boy named Parker, happily helping him draw pictures of massive dragons while observing the rest of the room. My parents and brother beamed with pride at the main tables, completely unaware of the incredibly lucrative secret I had successfully kept from them for years. They viewed my writing as a silly internet hobby, but I was actually an elite ghostwriter who crafted powerful speeches for some of the most influential leaders in the entire country. In fact, the very man my brother had just forbidden me from approaching was my biggest client, and I had recently written his revolutionary address for a major summit in Pittsburgh. I earned more money than my family could ever imagine through my secret contracts, yet I found far more genuine comfort sitting with the
children than pretending to be someone I was not.
