Derek was scrolling through his phone, barely listening. When he finally looked up, he said, “Just don’t embarrass me, Elena. This is a big deal for me, and you’re kind of… I don’t know. You don’t really fit with the crowd I’m trying to impress.”

“The crowd you’re trying to impress?” I said.

“Yeah. These are important business contacts, potential employers, investors. They’re high-level people. You’re just—you work in tech support or whatever, right?”

I’d been a consultant for four years. I’d told him at least 10 times.

“Something like that.”

My mother nodded enthusiastically.

“Exactly. So, tomorrow, just stay in the background. Be pleasant. Don’t talk about yourself or your job. This isn’t about you.”

I smiled.

“Of course. Whatever Derek needs.”

The next morning, Derek sent me a text.

Party starts at 6. Don’t be late. And dress appropriately. Business formal. Try not to look poor.

I stared at that text for a full minute.

Try not to look poor.

I had $8.7 million in assets, and he was telling me not to look poor.

I chose my outfit very carefully: a tailored charcoal suit from a designer boutique, $3,400 but understated enough that it wouldn’t draw attention. Diamond earrings that had cost $12,000. Heels.

I looked every bit the successful businesswoman I was, but nothing flashy.

Nothing that would upstage Derek’s big day.

I arrived at the Skyline Tower at 5:45 p.m.

Thomas saw me come in, and his eyebrows rose slightly.

I gave him a tiny shake of my head.

Not yet.

He nodded and went back to directing the setup crew.

The rooftop looked stunning.

My parents had spared no expense. String lights created a canopy of light over the space. The bar was fully stocked with premium liquor. The catering tables were laden with expensive hors d’oeuvres. A DJ was setting up in the corner. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the sunset over the city skyline.

My mother was already there, directing staff like a general commanding troops.

She saw me and frowned slightly, looking me up and down.

“Elena, you’re early.”

“I wanted to make sure I could help if you needed anything.”

“How thoughtful.” Her tone suggested it was anything but. “Actually, Derek has a special check-in system tonight. Very professional, very organized. You need to get your wristband.”

“Wristband?”

She pointed to a table near the entrance where Derek stood with a young woman holding a tablet and a box of wristbands.

There was a line of early arrivals, professionally dressed people who were clearly Derek’s colleagues, classmates, and networking contacts.