At the Family Reunion, It Turned Into a Nightmare When My Brother-in-Law Found Out Who His New Boss Was
Part 1
The morning Gavin Mercer told me I was a loser, Chicago was drowning in cold April rain.
Chapter 1
At the Family Reunion, It Turned Into a Nightmare When My Brother-in-Law Found Out Who His New Boss Was
813 words
The kind that made the glass towers downtown look blurred and cruel, like the city itself had decided not to bother pretending it was kind.
I stood in the twenty-ninth-floor lobby of Mercer Legacy Holdings with my portfolio tucked under one arm and the weight of three sleepless nights sitting behind my eyes. The receptionist gave me a smile that was too careful to be warm.
“Ms. Mercer, Gavin will see you now.”
Mercer.
I still wasn’t used to hearing that name attached to mine, even after six years of marriage to Ethan. It never felt like mine. In that family, names were currency, birthright, armor. Mine was something I had married into but never truly been allowed to wear.
Gavin’s office was at the end of a corridor lined with framed magazine covers featuring Richard Mercer, his father, standing in front of warehouses, construction projects, and one glossy profile
Gavin had inherited the title without earning the bones for it.
He looked up when I stepped inside, then leaned back in his leather chair with the lazy confidence of a man who had never been told no long enough for the word to mean anything.
He didn’t ask me to sit.
His eyes flicked over my navy suit, the portfolio, the careful stillness I was using to hold myself together.
Then he smiled.
It was not a human smile. It was the smile of someone who had already decided how much pleasure he intended to take from the next five minutes.
“We don’t hire losers like you, Natalie.”
No greeting. No small talk. No attempt at decency.
Just that.
The words landed so hard the room seemed to tilt for a second. I had prepared for skepticism. I had prepared for condescension. I
I had not prepared for cruelty delivered with the casual ease of a man choosing lunch.
I kept my face still. “Then why ask me to come in?”
He laughed once, low and dismissive. “Because my mother insisted it would be good for family optics if we gave you a shot. She hates awkward holidays.”
There it was.
Not even the dignity of a real interview.
Outside his windows, the rain streaked down the skyline. Inside, Gavin laced his fingers behind his head and studied me like I was something sticky on the sole of his shoe.
“I’ve reviewed your résumé,” he said. “A few good years in operations. A boutique turnaround firm nobody’s heard of. Then a gap.”
“My mother was sick.”
“I’m aware.” He shrugged. “Companies don’t hire grief. They hire momentum.”
My throat tightened, but I would not let him see it.
He waved that off as if facts were annoying little flies. “Natalie, let’s not do the inspirational speech thing. You’re not executive material. You don’t have the temperament, the profile, or frankly, the pedigree.”
Pedigree.
That one almost made me laugh.
Because what he meant was not talent. Not intelligence. Not performance.
He meant blood.
He meant not born Mercer.
He meant the same thing his mother, Elaine, had been saying in softer words ever since Ethan brought me home for Christmas the first year we were together. Lovely girl, sharp girl, resilient girl, but not quite one of us.
I set my portfolio on the desk between us. “You asked for a proposal for the company’s Ohio distribution losses. It’s in there.”
He did not touch it.
Instead, he leaned forward, elbows on the desk, voice dropping into something uglier.
“I’m protecting the company, Natalie. We can’t have embarrassments ruining our image.”
For one hot, violent second, I imagined sweeping everything off his desk.
Instead I picked up my portfolio again.
“I understand perfectly,” I said.
His grin widened, delighted that I seemed to be swallowing the humiliation he had prepared for me.
“Good,” he said. “Then get out of my office.”
So I did.
I walked through the corridor without looking at anyone. Past the framed photos. Past the receptionist. Past the rain-blurred windows and the men in polished shoes moving with the confidence that came from never wondering if they belonged.
By the time I reached the revolving doors, my heartbeat was thudding so hard it felt like another person trapped inside my chest.
Outside, the rain hit my face like open hands.
I stood there on the sidewalk with taxis hissing by and anger rising in me so cold and bright it no longer felt like pain.
It felt like instruction.
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