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“You’re putting your little side project over the legacy. Mom is right. You’re making this hard for everyone. Just give us the code. We can integrate it. Put your name on it somewhere if that makes you feel better. But we need it.”
I didn’t respond. I let her talk. Every word went on the recording.
“Think about it. Don’t make us do this the hard way.”
She left. The door closed softly.
I sat down and listened to the audio. Her voice calm at first, then sharp. The threats, the flip making me the problem.
“You’re being selfish.”
“You’re putting your side project over the legacy.”
It wasn’t about saving the firm. It was about control.
After that, the erasure became systematic. Emails from the firm stopped CC’ing me. Even the family updates—birthday reminders, holiday plans—vanished from my inbox.
On social media, photos of yacht events went up without tags. My name disappeared from captions. From family legacy slides Caitlyn used in pitches, the section about next generation showed only her. My photo, my name—gone.
“I know you’re upset, but you have to understand. You make people uncomfortable. Your energy is heavy. Clients can feel it. It’s better if you stay away for now. For everyone’s sake.”
I didn’t argue. I just listened.
She continued.
“The elite guests expect a certain atmosphere—positive, upbeat. You don’t fit that right now. It’s not personal. It’s business.”
I hung up.
The realization settled in slowly. This wasn’t anger. This wasn’t disappointment. This was deliberate. They had turned me into the problem so they could justify removing me.
No more invites, no more mentions, no more place at the table.
As the months passed, I pushed forward on my own. I stopped answering the occasional texts from Caitlyn asking for updates. I stopped explaining myself.
Instead, I doubled down on Value Core.
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