Two months later, Everwell landed the Whitfield project.On the day of the signing ceremony, Dad sat in the front row. He was wearing a new light blue dress shirt. It wasn't expensive, but it was pressed crisp and clean. Owen sat beside him, clutching a folder, flipping through it nervously over and over.Dad nudged him quietly. "Stop flipping. You're going to wear the pages out."Owen didn't back down. "I'm checking."I stood on stage looking at the two of them, and suddenly I was back at the wedding, watching Dad sit by the kitchen doors with the catering carts behind him and broth stains at his feet, barely daring to clap.Today, he was in the front row, and nobody asked him to move aside. Nobody told him he was in the way of the cameras.After the signing, James shook my hand. "Ms. Reed, looking forward to the partnership."When those words landed, Dad's eyes lit up. He straightened up a little in his seat, like he wanted everyone to know I was his daughter.When the event
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