The crystal chandelier at the grand ballroom of the estate vibrated not from music, but from the sudden, stunned intake of breath from four hundred of the city’s elite.

By the end of the first week, the restructuring of what remained of my father's empire was well underway.

We didn't liquidate everything. Under my direction, Reyes Global Capital absorbed the legitimate real estate holdings, converting the toxic, corrupt corporate structure into a modern, transparent firm. More importantly, I renamed the company: Astra Holdings—derived from the Latin phrase per aspera ad astra, meaning "through hardships to the stars."

It felt symbolic. Every desk, every corner office, and every filing cabinet now represented a clean break from the toxic past.

On a rainy Friday afternoon, I sat at my new mahogany desk on the top floor of the Astra building, reviewing a portfolio of upcoming architectural investments in Manhattan.

My private intercom buzzed.

“Meredith,” Daniel’s voice came through the speaker. “You have a visitor in the lobby. She’s refusing to leave until she speaks with you.”

I frowned slightly, resting my chin on my hand. “Who is it?”

“Your sister.”

A heavy, complicated silence settled over the room. I hadn't spoken to Allison since the night of her disastrous wedding. While my mother had tried to beg for money, Allison had gone completely dark, retreating into her half-furnished suburban townhouse while her short-lived marriage dissolved into annulment filings and public humiliation.

“Send her up,” I said quietly.

Ten minutes later, the office door clicked open.

Allison stepped inside. She wasn't wearing white tulle or designer lace anymore. She wore a simple beige trench coat, her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and her face was entirely devoid of makeup. She looked smaller, exhausted, and desperately fragile.

She stopped a few feet away from my desk, looking around the spacious, modern office with wide, intimidated eyes.

“It’s… it’s a nice office,” Allison whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

“Thank you, Allie,” I replied evenly, motioning to the chair opposite my desk. “Have a seat.”

Allison sat down, nervously twisting the fabric of her coat in her lap. She looked down at the floor for a long moment before finally looking up, tears welling in her eyes.

“I lost everything, Meredith,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “Chad annulled the marriage within forty-eight hours. His parents blocked my number. All my friends from the country club stopped answering my calls the second Dad’s arrest made the morning news. Even our apartment lease was in Dad’s name, and the bank locked it down yesterday.”

I listened quietly. I didn't interrupt. I didn't gloat.

“I know I was awful to you,” Allison sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “I know I laughed. I know I stood there while Dad shoved you into that fountain and I didn't say a word. I was so caught up in being the golden child, in having everyone look at me… I never cared about how much it hurt you. And now… now I’m the one everyone’s laughing at.”

The sight of my younger sister breaking down in front of me didn't bring me joy. It brought a strange, profound sense of closure. The cycle of comparison, bitterness, and performative perfection was finally broken.

“Allie,” I said softly, leaning forward.

She looked up, sniffling, her eyes red and desperate.

“I’m not going to bail you out financially,” I said, my tone firm but gentle. “I’m not going to buy you a new apartment or hand you a trust fund check. That’s how Dad and Mom raised us—relying on shortcuts, illusions, and other people's misery.”

Allison flinched, biting her lower lip.

“However,” I continued, “you are my sister. And unlike you and Dad, I don't abandon family when they hit rock bottom.”

Allison blinked, staring at me in disbelief. “What… what do you mean?”

“I’m setting you up with an entry-level position in our corporate communications department,” I stated, sliding a printed job description across the desk. “Starting salary is fifty-five thousand a year. You’ll work a standard forty-hour week, earn your own paycheck, pay your own rent in a modest apartment in Queens, and learn what it actually means to build something with your own two hands.”

Allison stared at the paper, tears streaming freely down her cheeks, but this time, they weren't tears of panic—they were tears of shock and realization.

“You’re… you’re giving me a job?” she whispered. “After everything I did?”