her do this?”
Jordan did not pause. “We make decisions together. If she’s not satisfied, neither am I.”
The room went quiet.
For the first time, my parents were not the ones holding the ground.
I took a breath.
“If you want our help,” I said slowly, “you have to earn it.”
My father made a dismissive sound. “Earn it? We’re your parents.”
“And you have spent years humiliating my husband,” I replied. “So here is my condition: you spend one week at Jordan’s company.”
My mother blinked. “Doing what?”
“Just being there,” I said. “Watching. Listening.”
My father’s expression closed off. “We don’t need jobs.”
“It’s not a job,” Jordan said. “My company is built on inclusivity. Most of our team members have physical or mental disabilities — or come from backgrounds like mine.”
“You’re joking,” my father said flatly.
“No,” I said. “Spend one week there. See what he
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