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One investor raised a hand.
“Who developed this?”
“My sister Alexis has been helping with the technical side.”
Helping.
The word landed like a slap.
After the meeting, she walked me to the door.
“That went well,” she said. “Thanks for being there.”
She handed me a folder.
“Standard NDA,” she explained. “To protect the family business. Covers everything related to Whitaker Yachts. You understand?”
I flipped through it.
“This protects me, too?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said. “We’re family. We look out for each other.”
I signed because, at that moment, I still believed the word meant protection.
The next few months felt like walking a tightrope. Caitlyn kept asking for more.
“Can you run numbers on this listing?”
“Can you explain how the model handles depreciation?”
I gave her outputs—summaries, never the source, never the heart of it. She kept using it. At a show in Newport, she presented slides with my exact phrasing, threaded valuation notes, word for word from my notes.
I started to feel the doubt settle in the questions. Why did she need so much? Why did the slides look so much like my work? But I pushed it down. They were desperate. I told myself the firm was losing face with investors. They just needed enough to look like they were still leading.
Once the reputation was safe, it would stop.
That’s what I kept telling myself.
The doubt grew quieter, but it never went away.
A few months later, the requests turned into demands. Caitlyn called me on a Thursday evening. I was in the kitchen of my shared apartment reheating leftovers when my phone buzzed.
“Alexis, we need the full system.”
No hello. No small talk.
“The investors are pulling back. We need to integrate your model into the firm. It’s the only way to save our position.”
I set the plate down.
“My model?”
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