Then my phone started vibrating.
Mom first.
I let it ring.
Dad second.
I let that one ring too.
Then the family group chat lit up.
Mom wrote that Gage had called her and everyone needed to stop being dramatic.
Dad wrote that business was business and family was family, apparently unaware that this was precisely the position I had just taken.
Then Mom sent me a private message.
Can’t you just help your brother? You know how he gets when he’s stressed.
I read it twice.
The wording was almost impressive in its familiarity.
Not: Was what he said to you okay?
Not: Why did we laugh when he excluded you?
Not even: Are you hurt?
Just: Can’t you help him?
I typed back one sentence.
The request is being handled through the normal process because I have disclosed the family relationship.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Mom finally wrote: You’re really going to hold one stupid joke against them?
I answered: No.
That is why I removed myself from the decision.
She didn’t respond for almost an hour.
By then, I had gone back to the reports I originally came in to finish.
The strange thing was how peaceful I felt.
I hadn’t won anything.
Tegan hadn’t lost anything she was entitled to.
No one had been fired, ruined, exposed, or publicly humiliated.
I had simply stopped using my position to make life easier for people who treated my effort as an obligation and my feelings as entertainment.
Later that afternoon, the finance manager called me with an update.
The exception had been reviewed without my involvement.
There wasn’t enough reason to bypass the existing payment schedule, so the early release would not be granted.
The underlying payment itself remained valid and would proceed normally under the contract.
Exactly as it should.
I documented my recusal and closed the file.
That should have been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
Gage called me shortly before five.
I answered because by then I was curious whether he wanted to speak to me as his sister or as the CFO he had apparently discovered that morning.
For several seconds, neither of us said anything.
Then he asked, “Did you tell them to deny it?”
“No.”
“Did you influence it at all?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Tegan thinks you did.”
“Tegan thought I would make her barbecue stink yesterday and save her payment today.
She may not be the best judge of my intentions.”
He actually went silent.
Then, very softly, he said, “Yeah.”
It was the first honest sound I had heard from him all weekend.
I waited.
“I shouldn’t have sent that message,” he said.
“No.”
