They Erased Me. I Owned Their Empire Chapter 14

Christmas Eve, I woke up thirty years old.

My phone was already buzzing.

Mom, [HAPPY BIRTHDAY WREN ?? Thirty years ago today, at 6:14 a.m., I met you. Best morning of my life.]

Dad, [Happy birthday, sweetheart. Proud of you.]

Theo, [Happy birthday. On time this year. 6:00 a.m. Beat everyone. ?]

Miles, [HBD sis. Don’t be weird about it. Love you.]

Priya, [Did they remember??? Tell me they remembered.]

I sat in bed and cried. Then laughed. Then cried again.

[They remembered,] I typed back.

The Calloway Grand ballroom glittered that night. Four hundred guests. The same twelve-foot tree. But the banner

above the stage was different.

Happy Birthday, Wren.

Mom had insisted. “Every year,” she’d said, “for the rest of my life.”

Dad took the stage at nine. He looked nervous in a way I’d never seen. He unfolded a piece of paper. His hands shook.

“A year ago tonight,” he said, “I stood up here and called the wrong daughter’s name.”

The room went quiet.

“I’ve spent twelve months trying to learn the right one.” He looked down at me. “Thirty years ago tonight, my first child

was born. She was quiet. She was brilliant. She built something extraordinary while I wasn’t looking. And when this family was drowning, she saved us without asking for a single thank-you.”

He swallowed.

“So, Wren. Thank you. And happy birthday. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it out loud.”

The room stood up.

On the giant screen behind him, the new Christmas card appeared.

The Calloways. In front of the fireplace. My green scarf on the mantel.

And me. In the center. Mom’s hand in mine.

The cake came out on a silver cart. Lemon. Three tiers. My name in green sugar across the top. Nobody else’s.

I blew out the candles. Mom held onto my arm the whole time like she was scared I’d disappear.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I told her.

“I know,” she whispered. “I just like knowing where you are.”

Later, Priya cornered me by the bar with news she’d been saving.

Grant had taken a plea deal. Restitution, probation, and a permanent ban from serving as an officer of any public

company. He was selling used cars in New Hampshire, last she’d heard.

Bianca had stopped posting entirely. Someone told Priya she’d started therapy in Phoenix. Real therapy. Twice a week.

I hoped she meant it.

I didn’t need to know.

Near midnight, the room thinned out. The band played something slow. I stood by the window, watching snow fall over

the Common.

Callum came up beside me.

He didn’t make a speech to the room. He didn’t need four hundred witnesses. He’d told me six weeks ago exactly what was coming. And every single day since, I’d known my answer.

He knelt.

Not on cold concrete. Not with something stolen and reset.

On the carpet of the ballroom I owned, under a banner with my name on it.

He opened a small box. Inside, a simple gold band. Set with a single green stone.

“It’s not your grandmother’s,” he said. “Your grandmother’s is yours. This one’s ours.”

His voice shook. Just a little.

“I love you, Wren. I’ve loved you since a sticky note that said don’t quit. I’ll ask you what you want every day for the rest

of our lives. And I will never, ever make you wait outside the door.”

I was crying. Of course I was crying.

Sixteen years of birthdays with someone else’s name on the cake.

And here was a man who’d written mine everywhere.

“Ask me,” I whispered.

He smiled.

“Wren Calloway. Will you marry me?”

Across the room, my mother had both hands over her mouth. Theo was grinning. Dad was quietly wiping his eyes with a cocktail napkin.

They were watching. All of them. Seeing me.

But I didn’t need them to anymore.

I had finally learned to see myself.

“Yes.”