Thrown out on Christmas Eve… But after I gave my boots to a stranger, 19 black BMWs surrounded me
I tried to say thank you, but nothing came out. She waved it off. «Sign it before I change my mind and make you finish the endowment tax module first.»
I laughed through tears and signed. That night, we opened a 1982 Chateau Margaux on the terrace, just the two of us, watching the sun dip behind the redwoods.
She raised her glass. «To the girl who had every reason to turn bitter and chose kindness anyway.»
I clinked my glass against hers. «And to the woman who refused to let a good deed stay invisible.»
We drank. For the first time since Christmas Eve, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
October smelled like wet leaves and money in San Francisco. I was in my corner office on the 22nd floor of 2000 California Street, reviewing the final numbers for the «Second Home» campus, when Claudia buzzed once and opened the door.
«Your sister and Darius are downstairs. No appointment.»
I felt my stomach drop the way it used to when Vivica borrowed my clothes in high school and brought them back ruined. «Tell security to send them up.»
They walked in looking like they had rehearsed the performance in the elevator ride. Vivica was wearing a modest navy sheath dress instead of her usual bodycon, hair in a low ponytail, minimal jewelry. Darius had swapped the hoodie and sneakers uniform for a navy suit that almost fit well.
Both wore the tight smiles of people who practiced apologies in the mirror. Vivica spoke first, voice soft, eyes shimmering.
«Azalea. I’ve been horrible. We’ve been horrible. I am so sorry for everything. Christmas Eve… the things I posted… everything.»
Darius nodded vigorously. «We’re getting married next spring. Trying to do things the right way.»
I stood behind my desk, hands clasped, and waited.
Vivica took a breath. «Daddy’s in trouble. Some investments went south. He and Mama might lose the house. And Darius’s new company, AI for elder care, just needs two million to close the seed round. We wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t life or death.»
I raised an eyebrow. «Which part is life or death? Dad’s mortgage or his valuation?»
Darius forced a laugh. «Look, I get it. You’re big time now. But blood is blood, right? Two million is nothing to the foundation.»
I leaned back. «Tell me what happened to the 38 million trust fund you took last December.»
Vivica’s mask flickered. «We diversified. Crypto. NFTs. Some angel deals Darius’s friends were running. It was supposed to 10x, then FTX crashed. Luna went to zero. Most of it is gone.»
Darius chimed in. «Market downturn. Happens to everyone. Sequoia lost billions too. We just need a bridge.»
I opened the folder Claudia had silently placed on my desk. It contained screenshots, bank records, and a Forbes article titled: The Vance Family Bets Inheritance on Meme Coins. I spun the folder so they could see.
«87% gone in 11 months,» I said calmly. «You bought a Lambo each, put a deposit on a condo in Miami, and paid influencers to pump coins. That’s not a downturn, Darius. That’s arson.»
Vivica’s mask slipped. «Seriously? You’re going to sit there in your fancy office and let Mama and Daddy go homeless?»
I hit the intercom. «Security to 22, please.»
Darius tried sweet reason. «Come on, Azalea. Two million is chump change here. You won’t even miss it.»
The door opened, and two guards in suits stepped in. I stood up.
«This foundation exists for people who never had a safety net,» I said firmly. «Not for people who set theirs on fire and now want mine. You aren’t getting a dime. Not today, not ever.»
Vivica went scarlet. «You ungrateful…» She was already pulling out her phone, recording, as the guards took her elbow.
By the time they reached the lobby, three paparazzi vans and a local gossip blogger were waiting outside the glass doors. Someone had tipped them off. Vivica put on a full performance: tears, trembling lip, screaming about the cold-hearted sister abandoning her own blood.
The video hit TikTok in twenty minutes. Caption: My billionaire sister won’t even help our parents keep their home. Family first. #ToxicSister. It blew up, gaining ten million views in six hours.
Then the internet did what it does best. Former classmates posted yearbook photos of Vivica pouring yogurt into my backpack senior year. Someone found the Christmas Eve Instagram Live where she laughed while I dragged my suitcase out. A former nanny went on record about the way Vivica used to lock me out of the house in the rain as a prank.
The comments flipped from sympathy to pitchforks. #VanceFamilyExposed trended higher than the original video.
Darius’s pitch deck for the seed round leaked. Someone at the foundation «accidentally» forwarded it to a reporter. Turns out, the AI for eldercare startup was 90% smoke and 10% his cousin’s garage project. Investors vanished.
