Dad called again before I reached home.
I watched his name appear on the screen.
Paul Mercer.
I almost let it ring.
Then I answered.
"Rowan, where are you?"
"On my way home."
"Why did you leave the wedding?"
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
"I thought that was obvious."
"Don't be difficult."
I looked at the road.
"I wasn't on the guest list, Dad."
There was a pause.
Then he sighed.
"We can discuss that later."
I almost laughed.
"Of course we can."
"Your sister has enough to worry about tonight."
I waited.
He continued.
"There's another matter I need to ask you about."
There it was.
I knew it had to come eventually.
"What matter?"
"Did you contact anyone at Asterline today?"
I glanced at the dashboard.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"I made some account changes through the management system."
His voice became sharper.
"What changes?"
I waited until I reached the next intersection.
Then I answered.
"I declined seven assignments that hadn't started, and I removed Mercer Architectural Systems from preferred scheduling."
Silence.
Not ordinary silence.
The kind where someone is trying to decide how much information the other person already knows.
"Why would you do that?"
"Because the arrangement was no longer appropriate."
"What arrangement?"
"The preferred scheduling arrangement."
He exhaled.
"Rowan, I'm talking about our company's projects."
"I know."
"Those projects were supposed to move forward."
"Three existing projects are still active. Asterline will complete them."
"And the others?"
"They hadn't started. The contracts allowed the assignments to be declined before engineering began."
He didn't answer.
I continued.
"The company is returning your account to standard scheduling."
His voice changed.
"Who authorized this?"
"I did."
"Did you speak with the account manager?"
"I'm the owner."
Another pause.
Then he said something I hadn't expected.
"You're what?"
I stopped at a red light.
"I'm the owner of Asterline Engineering Group."
He didn't speak.
I could hear faint voices behind him.
Music.
Someone moving a chair.
The wedding was still happening.
Finally, he said, "Since when?"
"Since the company started."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I looked at the traffic signal.
I could have given him a long answer.
I could have explained every year I had worked.
Every contract.
Every employee.
Every time I had tried to tell him what I was building.
But I didn't.
"You never asked."
He became irritated.
"That's not an answer."
"It is the answer I have."
He lowered his voice.
"Rowan, we need to talk about this properly."
"We can talk during business hours."
"This is important."
"I know."
"Then don't hang up."
I looked at the light.
It had turned green.
"I have to drive."
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking again.
I pulled into the driveway a few minutes later.
The house was quiet.
I carried the wedding present inside and placed it on the dining table.
The ivory wrapping paper looked out of place beneath the kitchen light.
I removed my coat.
Then I made myself something to eat.
A simple sandwich.
I stood at the counter while eating it.
My phone remained on the table.
It rang twice.
I didn't answer.
Then a message arrived from Derek.
Can you please stop making tonight worse?
I read it slowly.
I typed a response.
I didn't make tonight worse. I just left.
I sent it.
He didn't reply.
I washed my plate.
Then I opened my laptop.
There were several emails waiting.
One came from my chief operating officer, Martin.
He had worked with me for six years and knew I preferred direct communication.
The subject line read: Mercer Account Changes.
I opened it.
He had acknowledged the seven declined assignments and the removal of the scheduling preference.
He wanted to confirm that the three existing projects would continue under their current commitments.
I replied that they would.
I also asked him to make sure the relevant project managers communicated the change professionally.
No personal explanation.
No unnecessary discussion.
Just the facts.
A minute later, he responded.
Understood. We'll handle the account according to the revised terms.
I closed the email.
Then I looked at the wedding present.
I had not removed the card.
I took it out and read it once more.
The words were simple.
I had wished Camille happiness.
I had wished her a peaceful home.
I had wished her a marriage where both people felt valued.
I folded the card and put it back.
Then I placed the present in a cupboard.
I wasn't ready to decide what to do with it.
That night, I slept badly.
Not because I regretted leaving.
Because I kept remembering the way my brother had looked at the seating chart.
He had known.
He had known I wasn't invited to sit with everyone.
And he had allowed me to discover it alone.
The next morning, I arrived at Asterline before nine.
Our office occupied two floors of a commercial building.
The reception area had a long wooden desk and a glass wall overlooking the main engineering space.
People were already working.
Someone was discussing a prototype near the testing room.
A project coordinator walked past carrying a folder.
I greeted the receptionist.
Then I went into my office.
Martin was waiting.
He had a printed account summary in his hand.
"Morning."
"Morning."
He placed the document on my desk.
"Mercer Architectural Systems."
I nodded.
"Yes."
"We've processed the changes. The active projects remain untouched."
"Good."
He studied me briefly.
"Everything okay?"
I considered lying.
Then I decided against it.
"Family matter."
He nodded.
He didn't ask for details.
That was one reason I trusted him.
He knew when a question wasn't necessary.
He sat down.
"Their procurement department may ask about the declined assignments."
"Give them the contractual explanation."
"And the scheduling change?"
"Standard capacity allocation from now on."
"Understood."
I looked through the document.
The seven assignments were listed individually.
Their statuses were clear.
The three active projects remained in progress.
I signed the internal review.
Then I handed it back.
"Let's keep everything documented."
Martin stood.
"Of course."
He reached the door, then paused.
"One more thing."
I looked up.
"Your father called our main office last night."
I felt my shoulders tighten.
"What did he ask?"
"He wanted to speak with whoever made the account changes."
"And?"
"I told him the matter would be handled by management."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
Martin left.
I sat at my desk.
Outside, the engineers continued working.
The ordinary sounds of the office were comforting.
Nobody cared whether my father approved of my decisions.
Nobody expected me to apologize for leaving a room where I wasn't welcome.
They cared about the work.
That was something I understood.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Mom.
Your father is very upset. Please call him before this becomes a bigger problem.
I put the phone facedown.
Then I opened the day's project schedule.
I had work to do.
And for once, I wasn't going to abandon it because somebody in my family wanted my attention.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: When My Family Learned What I Had Built, Their Questions Changed, but Nobody Asked the One Question I Needed Answered
I Checked the Seating Chart Three Times Before I Realized My Family Had Made a Decision About Me Without Telling Me
Part 5 of 8
