Chapter 13 - SISTERS WITHOUT A COMPETITION.
Claire and I began meeting every Sunday morning.
At first, our conversations were awkward.
We had spent too many years competing for space inside our mother’s approval.
Claire admitted that she had secretly envied me.
“You could fail without destroying Mom’s fantasy,” she said.
“I thought you were free.”
“I was not free,” I replied.
“I was rejected.”
She nodded.
“And I was displayed.”
We began separating who we truly were from the roles our parents had assigned us.
Claire was not the perfect daughter.
I was not the family disappointment.
We were two women who had learned unhealthy ways to survive the same household.
David joined an established medical group instead of trying to save his private practice.
His income became more stable.
He volunteered to help Apex design improved sanitation protocols for surgical centers.
At first, I worried that mixing family and business would create problems.
He surprised me by refusing payment for the initial consultation.
“I owe your employees more respect than I gave them before,” he said.
Meanwhile, the independent investigation into Apex’s foundation was completed.
The report confirmed that three of our earliest clients had come from the stolen business list.
However, those clients had not been active customers of my father’s former company when I contacted them.
Legally, Apex owed nothing.
Morally, I believed the answer was different.
I established the Brooks Foundation in honor of Natalie’s father.
The foundation funded training, legal support, and emergency aid for sanitation workers trying to start ethical businesses.
Some board members argued that the decision made Apex look guilty.
I disagreed.
“Repairing harm is not the same as admitting a crime.”
“It means we care about where our success came from.”
Natalie eventually accepted a plea agreement for corporate theft, forgery, sabotage, and arson.
Before sentencing, she sent me a letter.
She did not apologize.
But she thanked me for clearing her father’s name.
At the bottom, she wrote one final sentence.
“You became the person your father should have been.”
I folded the letter and placed it inside my desk.
Then Grandma Eleanor called.
Her voice sounded unusually weak.
May you like
“Emily,” she whispered.
“I need you to come to the hospital.”
