My family told me not to come over on New Year’s Eve because “I’d just make everyone uncomfortable,” so I spent the night alone in my apartment. But at 12:01 a.m., my brother called—his voice shaking. “What did you do? Dad just saw the news, and he’s having trouble breathing…”

“We are positioned to revolutionize early diagnostics,” he declared, flashing that million-dollar smile.

One of the investors, a silver-haired man with a Patek Philippe watch, glanced at me in the back. “And who is this?”

Lucas didn’t miss a beat. “That’s my sister, Ava. She’s been acting as an assistant on some of the technical research.”

Assistant.

After the meeting, Lucas handed me a document. “Just a standard NDA,” he said, casually. “To protect the family business. You understand.”

I read it. It was a Non-Disclosure Agreement covering all proprietary information related to Reynolds Medical Group.

“This protects me too, right?” I asked.

“Of course,” he smiled, and his eyes were void of anything resembling guilt. “We’re family, Ava. We protect each other.”

I signed it. Because I was stupid. Because I still believed that shared DNA meant shared loyalty.

The erasure happened slowly, then all at once. By Thanksgiving 2023, I was a ghost at the table. The dining room was a spread from Architectural Digest, filled with twelve guests—business partners and hospital donors.

My mother introduced Lucas to the table. “CEO of Reynolds Medical Group,” she beamed. “We are so proud of what he is building.”

Then she gestured to me, her voice dropping ten degrees in warmth. “And this is our daughter, Ava. She works in… technology.”

“Technology?” a guest asked. “What kind?”

I opened my mouth, but Lucas interrupted. “Ava is still figuring out her path,” he laughed lightly, pouring wine for the man next to him. “She’s very introverted. Brilliant with computers, but you know…” He made a vague, dismissive gesture. “Not great with people.”

Continue reading…