Dad Banned Me From His Party For Being "Poor"—Then His Boss Called Me Owner

Dad Banned Me From His Party For Being "Poor"—Then His Boss Called Me Owner
@Revenge Zone
The text message from my father glowed on my phone screen: "Annual company gala tonight. No failures allowed. Don't embarrass us again with your 'startup stories.'"
I sat in my office – the entire top floor of Morrison Technologies' headquarters – reading his message while watching the city lights flicker below. The irony wasn't lost on me: my father, middle management at Richardson Corp, telling the owner of his company's biggest competitor not to embarrass him.
My assistant Sarah's voice came through the intercom: "Ms. Morrison, the Richardson Corp acquisition paperwork is ready. Once signed, you'll own 100% of your father's company."
"Perfect timing," I muttered, slipping the documents into my Hermès bag – the one my sister Jane had claimed was "obviously fake" at last year's gala.
Another text from Dad: "Jane's being promoted to Senior VP tonight. Don't ruin her moment with your presence."
Jane, who'd spent the last year bragging about her rise through Richardson Corp's ranks, had no idea that her promotion would last exactly twelve hours – until I announced the acquisition tomorrow morning.
My phone buzzed again, this time with a message from my CFO: "Final valuation: Richardson Corp worth $2.1 billion. Morrison Technologies current value: $48.7 billion. Your net worth just hit $18.2 billion."
I smoothed down my simple black dress – a one-of-a-kind piece that cost more than Jane's annual salary – and headed for the elevator. Despite Dad's ban, I had a party to attend. After all, it would be rude for the new owner to miss the announcement of her latest acquisition.
"Emma!" my mother's shocked voice carried across the hotel lobby as I walked in. "What are you doing here? Your father specifically said..."
"That failures aren't welcome?" I finished for her, watching her eyes dart nervously to her country club friends. "Don't worry, Mother. I won't stay long."
"You shouldn't be here at all," Jane hissed, appearing in her designer dress – paid for by the company I was about to own. "This is my night. My promotion. Not another chance for you to embarrass us with your little tech dreams."

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