JACKIE
The boardroom at Reynolds & Co. was freezing.
Not emotionally—just literally. The AC was on full blast, and I was regretting my sleeveless blouse while trying to stay awake through a presentation about zoning permits and elevator shaft logistics.
My dad sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, expression unreadable. My mom, beside him, looked like she was attending a royal tea party instead of a real estate meeting—perfect hair, pearl earrings, and a tiny notebook she never actually wrote in.
I, meanwhile, was trying not to yawn.
“Miss Reynolds,” one of the architects said, flipping to slide twenty-three, “we’d love your input on the rooftop garden layout.”
I leaned forward. “Keep it clean. Native plants, low maintenance, and enough seating for events. No koi ponds. We’re n
