Another fake designer Baghdad's near to Tea Thanksgiving, sister added stop playing wealthy.

Another fake designer Baghdad's near to Tea Thanksgiving, sister added stop playing wealthy. I simply nodded my phone buzzed, confirming your order to sell 51% controlling shares of their company. The Hermes Birkin sat on the chair beside me, butters soft leather in a deep cognac shade. It had cost $47,000 more than most people spend on a car.
#reddit #redditstory #askreddit #redditstories #storytime
 My sister Madison kept glancing at it like it might bite her. Nice bag. She finally said. Her voice dripping with false sweetness Canal Street Special around the Thanksgiving table. My family's laughter was immediate and cruel. My father nearly choked on his wine. My mother covered her mouth, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Even my brother-in-law, Derek joined in though he looked vaguely uncomfortable. Madison be nice, mom said, but she was still smiling. Though, honey, you really should be more careful about those knockoffs. They can spot them a mile away at country clubs. I cut into my Turkey saying nothing. I'm serious.

Natalie Madison, continued emboldened by the audience. This whole thing you've been doing lately, the designer clothes, the expensive restaurants you check into on Instagram. The business trips to Paris. It's embarrassing. We all know you work at a nonprofit making what, $65,000 a year? It's getting concerning.

Dad added his tone shifting to paternal worry. Are you in debt? Because this pretending to be wealthy when you're clearly not. It's not healthy. I took a sip of water. I'm not in debt. Then how are you affording all this Madison pressed? Because unless you married a secret millionaire, which let's be honest, you're still single at 32.

The math doesn't add up. My phone bust on the table. I glanced at the screen. Gregory Chin, chief Legal Counsel, Hartwell Industries, Ms. Hartwell, confirming your order to sell 51% controlling shares of Hartwell Industries. Stock transaction will execute Monday, 9:00 AM unless you cancel by Sunday midnight.

Current value, $102 million. I set the phone face down and resumed eating. See, even her phone is probably fake. Madison said. That's a real iPhone at least, but bet the designer apps and screenshots are all for show. What Madison didn't know, what none of them knew was that Hartwell Industries, the medical device company my grandfather had founded 60 years ago was currently worth $200 million and I owned 51% of it.

My grandfather, William Hartwell, had been the black sheep of his generation. A brilliant inventor who'd patented a revolutionary cardiac monitoring device in the 1960s. He'd built Hartwell Industries from nothing, ignoring his family's advice to pursue respectable careers in law or banking. When he died seven years ago, he'd left his controlling shares to me, not to my father, his son who'd spent 40 years in corporate law and never showed interest in the family business, not to Madison, his eldest grandchild who'd married into money and spent her time on charity boards.

To me, the youngest, the quietest, the one who'd actually listened to his stories and understood his work. The will had been specific to Natalie Hartwell, who inherited my curiosity rather than my family is arrogance. I leave controlling interest in Hartwell Industries. May she build something worthy of the name.

My family had been furious, not because they wanted the company, none of them understood medical devices or had any interest in manufacturing, but because it felt like a slight, the will stated clearly and publicly that grandpa thought I was more capable than any of them. The board had tried to buy me out immediately.

I was 25, fresh out of grad school with a biomedical engineering degree, and they assumed I'd take the money and run. Instead, I'd kept the shares and joined the board as a silent observer for seven years. I'd watched, I'd learned. I'd quietly used my controlling interests to block bad decisions and push strategic improvements.

The company's value had grown from $120 million to $200 million under my hidden influence. The board thought they were making brilliant decisions. In reality, I was the one steering the ship from the shadows, and I'd used my dividend payments roughly $4 million annually to live very comfortably while working at a nonprofit.

That meant something to me. The nonprofit salary was real. Everything else was funded by the company my family had dismissed as grandpa's little gadget business. You know what I think Madison was saying? Warming to her theme. I think you're catfishing your own life. You are creating this fake persona online, buying knockoff bags, taking photos in hotel lobbies.

You're not staying at the plaza. I said quietly. Last month I was staying at the plaza. Oh please, Madison laughed. The plaza. That's like $800 a night. The terrorist suite, I continued five nights, $3,400 per night.
#reddit #redditstory #askreddit #redditreadings #storytime