My brother Nicholas always treated social interactions like calculated business transactions, and his luxury wedding in the rolling hills of Vermont was certainly no exception. As wealthy guests arrived in the sparkling ballroom decorated with white orchids, he pulled me aside to complain that my presence near the entrance was ruining his professional photography. Even though I wore the peach silk dress he demanded and brought an expensive Italian espresso machine as a gift, he saw me only as a frustrating distraction. He was anxiously awaiting high level executives and the board of directors from Apex Dynamics, deciding I simply did not fit the desired aesthetic of his elite network. Handing me a seating chart with a sigh of deep annoyance, he banished me to Table Nineteen, a corner spot near the kitchen designated solely for toddlers and our elderly relative Great Aunt Beatrice. He dismissed my career as a meaningless freelance blog and sternly ordered me to stay hidden, explicitly forbidding me from speaking to his highly anticipated guest, billionaire chief executive Emmett Stewart.
