Keep the Drama，Give Me My Share

As a small-town girl who'd put herself through college on scholarships and spent her nights in New York working past midnight, I envied the rich people who didn't have to work at all more than anyone else. When the billionaire Whitmore family finally claimed me as their long-lost daughter, I thought I was finally done with clients and their endless revision requests. Who would've guessed — they didn't want to give me money, and they didn't want to give me shares either. So I had no choice but to keep grinding through projects during the day, redoing designs at night, not even daring to close my work inbox on weekends. One night, after yet another late shift, I came home to find my adopted sister Paige with her eyes red from crying. "Audrey, why do you come home so late every day? Is it because you hate me? Is that why you'd rather stay at the office than come home?" My biological parents looked at me, their faces full of disappointment. "Is accepting Paige really that hard for you? Do you have any idea? She can't sleep at night, she's so worried about you." Then my biological brother Grant planted himself in front of me, demanding I apologize to her. "I knew it. The moment you came back, this family wouldn't have a single peaceful day. You'd better give Paige an explanation." I looked at this family drama playing out in front of me — so familiar it felt like a rerun — and I was too exhausted to even muster anger. "How much longer is this family tribunal going to last? Make it quick, please. I have more revisions to do tomorrow morning." The four of them went silent. My phone buzzed again. The client had sent over the eighteenth round of revisions. My vision blurred just looking at it. All I could think about was my bed. If I could just lie down, whoever wanted to be the family's precious little princess could have the role. I turned to leave, and someone grabbed my arm. Grant glared at me, his face dark. "Audrey Whitmore, what kind of attitude is that? Is work more important than Paige?" I couldn't help rolling my eyes. "What do you think? If I don't work, where's my money going to come from? You all don't exactly plan on giving me any shares in the company." That one sentence made all four of their faces sour. I was almost three when I disappeared. I was twenty-five when they found me — by then I'd been working at a small branding and design agency for two years. Growing up, I always thought I was just an ordinary kid from an ordinary family in Pennsylvania. I made it through college on scholarships and part-time jobs, then moved to New York, where every paycheck disappeared into rent, bills, and student loans. I had to budget carefully just to make it to the next payday. So when I found out I was actually a Whitmore, I nearly went out of my mind with excitement. The family owned hotels and commercial real estate. Just that house of theirs in Westchester County alone was worth more than I could earn in several lifetimes, even if I never ate or paid rent. I'd also heard that for her eighteenth birthday, Paige had received a ten-million-dollar gift. And there was a separate arrangement in the family trust that entitled her to annual dividend income equivalent to the dividends on a ten-percent stake in the company. If that's what the adopted daughter got, surely their actual biological daughter — missing for twenty-two years — wouldn't still have to count pennies for lunch. But after I cooperated with them to verify my identity, filed the paperwork to change my name from Audrey Miller to Audrey Whitmore, and moved into this house so vast you could get lost in it, I realized things weren't anything like what I'd imagined. When I asked about shares, my father, Richard, told me solemnly that nothing had been set aside for me. "Why not?" "You've only just come home. You don't understand the family business yet. Transferring equity involves lawyers, company bylaws, and the other shareholders. It's not as simple as you think." Oh. Funny — it hadn't been that complicated when they were setting up Paige's dividend arrangement. I took a step back and asked if they could at least give me a living allowance. My mother, Caroline, turned that down too. "Audrey, it's not that we don't want to. It's just that Paige hasn't asked us for money since she turned eighteen. If we give it to you separately, she'll feel like we're starting to play favorites." I nearly choked with rage. At eighteen, she already had ten million dollars, plus annual dividends. If I had that kind of money, I'd be too proud to ask my parents for a dime too. When they fell silent again, I thought we might finally be done for the night — but then Grant opened his mouth once more. "Money, money, money. Audrey, is there anything in that head of yours besides money?" "Mom makes you chicken soup herself every day. Have you eaten it even once? Paige waits up for you every night. Have you ever once said thank you?" "They're doing everything they can to make you feel loved, and you walk around with that face on, like the whole family owes you something. We didn't make you disappear on purpose. What more do you want from us?" He was so righteous about it, like my refusal to drink a bowl of soup was a betrayal of the entire family. I actually laughed out loud. "Grant, that soup has celery in it. The first day I moved back, I told her I'm allergic to celery. If she really cared about me, she'd at least remember that." "And I never asked Paige to wait up for me. Before you all do these things, could you maybe ask whether I actually want them? Things I don't need don't magically turn into love just because you insist on giving them to me." Grant's face turned livid. He raised his hand. "You're impossible. I'm going to—" Before his hand could fall, Paige caught it. "Grant, don't!" She turned to me, her eyes instantly brimming with tears. "Audrey, don't argue with him. It's all my fault. I took your place, I took the things that should have been yours. If you really want them that badly, I can ask Dad to transfer my share of the dividend income to you." The moment the words left her mouth, Grant panicked. "No, Paige. That's your financial security. It's what lets you live without having to depend on anyone. If you give it to her—" "Sure." I cut him off and smiled at Paige. "Since you're so eager to give it to me, go ahead and have the lawyers draw up the paperwork."