Chapter 6 - The Unraveling of Collins Contracting

Back at the holiday dinner table, the festive atmosphere had completely evaporated, replaced by a suffocating, panicked silence.
Dad slumped heavily into his chair, staring blankly at the open cedar box as if it were a physical manifestation of his worst nightmares. The glossy magazine featuring my face and the official Valor Engineering legal notice sat mocking him under the harsh light of the dining room chandelier.
Mom wrung her hands together, pacing back and forth behind his chair. "Franklin, call her back. Call her right now! Tell her you’re sorry—tell her it was a joke!"
"A joke?" Dad muttered, his voice hollow and cracked. He looked up at Bryce, his eyes wild with sudden desperation. "Did you know about this? Did you know your sister was the chief engineer of Valor?"
Bryce held his hands up defensively, backing away from the table. "I swear to God, Dad, I didn't! She never talks to me about work! I just thought she did some basic IT or drafting work on a laptop!"
"Well, her 'laptop work' just single-handedly killed our entire company's future," Dad shouted, slamming his fist down onto the mahogany table so hard the crystal water goblets rattled.
Across the room, the twenty-three relatives began whispering anxiously among themselves, grabbing their coats and quietly slipping toward the front door. Nobody wanted to be caught in the crossfire of the Collins family's public implosion. Within ten minutes, the house was entirely empty except for my parents, Bryce, and Nia, who sat calmly in her chair, sipping her cider with a quiet, satisfied smile.
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"Uncle Franklin," Nia said, breaking the heavy silence. "Maybe you should have tried listening to her instead of judging her truck."
Dad glared at her, too deflated to even yell. He reached out with a trembling hand, picked up the brass level I had left on the table, and turned it over in his palms. He finally noticed the worn edges, the smooth metal, and the tiny scratches left behind by decades of real work.