Chapter 65

Chapter 65
MOLLY’S POV

I wake before my alarm. It’s so early that the sky is still gray and silent outside my window. My heart already races. Today is the board meeting. Today is supposed to be my day.

I sit up slowly and breathe in, but the nervousness I feel grips me like an iron band around my ribs. I get out of bed and walk to the mirror, clutching my laptop to my chest. I open the presentation for the fifth time and begin rehearsing in front of my reflection.

My voice trembles at first. “Good morning, everyone. Today I will be presenting the market expansion strategy for Q3…”

I straighten my posture then try again.
“Good morning. Thank you for being here. I will be walking you through a detailed projection for our future international growth…”

I force a smile at the mirror, but all I see is the girl my father always dismissed. The girl he compared to Kat every chance he got. Memories rush through me - Dad patting Kat’s head at twelve years old and calling her “my prodigy,” while he told me to “work harder.” The countless times he took Kat on business trips and left me at home. The way he introduced her to investors but barely included me in conversations.

I grip the counter until my knuckles turn white.
Not today. Today I show him he’s wrong.

I put on the power suit I picked out last night. It’s navy blue and it was customized just for me. it fits me perfectly. I tie my hair back in a neat ponytail. That way, I look more professional. I pair the look with a pair of black Manolo heels.

When I stare at myself again, I don’t recognize the terrified child. I see someone trying. Someone capable. I press a hand to my stomach and whisper under my breath, “You won’t fail. Not again.”

The drive to the company feels longer than usual. I repeat my affirmations silently, mouthing them like a prayer. You are competent. You deserve to be here. You are not less than Kat.

But the closer I get to the glass building, the more my hands tremble on the steering wheel.

Inside the lobby, the employees greet me politely, too politely.
“Good morning, Miss Molly.” “Morning, ma’am.”
Their smiles look stiff, rehearsed.

I hear the whispers the moment I pass the elevator.

“Did you see the email? Miss Kat closed another major deal yesterday.”
“She’s unstoppable.”
“She’s basically running the whole marketing division now.”

My stomach tightens painfully. I keep my chin up, keep walking, but the words hit the exact wound I woke up trying to ignore.

When I push open the boardroom doors, my father stands at the head of the table, talking to a few executives. Kat is right beside him. She looks composed, glowing and confident as always. The moment Dad sees me, he smiles and leans over to kiss my cheek.

“Molly. Good morning,” he says warmly.

Kat lifts her head immediately. “Hey, Molly. You look good. Big day for you, huh?”

I don’t know why, but something bitter spreads inside me. Maybe it’s her tone. Maybe it’s her face. Maybe it’s the fact she looks like she fits here… and I still feel like I’m begging for space.

“Yeah,” I say flatly, glaring for a second before looking away. “Morning.”

Her smile falters. Dad doesn’t notice.

The board settles. People take their seats. Papers shuffle. The tension in my chest rises with every second.

My father nods at me. “Go ahead, Molly. The floor is yours.”

I stand and click on the projector. My slides illuminate the room in clean blues and whites.

“Good morning,” I begin. “Today I’ll be presenting a structured strategy for expanding our market share by twelve percent over the next two quarters. I’ve analyzed recent performance, competitor activity, and internal capabilities.”

I click to the first slide. It shows graphs, timelines, percentages.
“This chart shows projected engagement if we target three new demographics—millennial parents, mid-income retirees, and self-employed freelancers…”

The board members nod politely. Some take notes.

I continue, louder, more confident. “For risk management, I have outlined cost projections if the campaign underperforms. As you can see here, the buffer remains within a safe margin…”

For a moment, I feel good. I feel like I’m doing it. I feel almost proud.

But halfway through, as I’m explaining the long-term expansion plan, I see it - Dad’s expression shifting. His lips tighten. His eyes glaze over. His brows furrow slightly as if he’s already bored or disappointed.

The confidence in my chest flickers.

I try to keep going. “—and by reducing our dependency on the current domestic channel, our international footprint will…”

My voice wavers. Dad notices. He clears his throat loudly.

When I finish, the silence is deafening. There’s no applause. Not even polite murmurs. Just the sound of the projector fan.

Dad leans forward. “Why are the projections so low?”

I swallow hard. “I - I based them on last year’s—”

“Did you compare them with last quarter’s numbers?” he cuts in.

I flip shakily through my notes. “I… I included them in the appendix… somewhere—”

“Molly.” His tone is cutting. “This is mediocre work. I expected better preparation.”

My heart drops straight to my shoes. The board members stare at the table or pretend to read something in front of them. No one defends me. No one even meets my eyes.

Dad leans back with a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “We can’t present something like this to investors. It lacks direction.”

The burn in my throat becomes unbearable. And then Kat stands.

“Alright,” she says softly, stepping forward, “my turn?”

The board instantly perks up like someone just opened a window and let fresh air in. Kat plugs in her laptop. She seems unbothered by my humiliation.

Her first slide appears. It looks bold, modern, polished.

“Good morning everyone,” she starts confidently. “I’m presenting the Q1 to Q3 restructuring plan, along with new partnership acquisitions.”

Her voice is steady and confident. She engages the crow . She walks through each section effortlessly.

“This is the first partnership - our collaboration with Ariston Group. They’ve already approved the proposal. Here is the projected revenue curve…”

The board murmurs approvingly.

Kat continues without missing a beat. “And here is a breakdown of how restructuring the digital team increased productivity by nineteen percent…”

Someone actually claps. Another board member says, “Impressive work.”

She reveals more charts, more analytics, more improvements. She brings results I didn’t even know she was working on.

My chest tightens with jealousy and shame.

Of course she has more results. Of course she’s the one they love.

Dad beams at her. “Brilliant work, Kat. Absolutely brilliant.”

She blushes slightly. “Thank you.”

He pats her shoulder proudly.

Then he turns to me slowly “Learn from your younger sister, Molly. This is the standard.”

The words hit me harder than any slap. A few board members nod in agreement. Someone murmurs, “Miss Kat always delivers.”

My teeth sink into my lip to stop it from trembling. My nails dig into my palm beneath the table until the pain distracts me from the humiliation rising up my throat.

Kat glances at me and tries to give me a small, supportive smile. It only makes it worse. I feel mocked. Pity is a knife twisting deeper than criticism.

Dad stands, dismissing the room. “Excellent meeting. Kat, I want to discuss the investor dinner later. Molly… stay a moment, we’ll talk about revisions.”

Revisions. Not congratulations. Not encouragement.

Just… corrections.

Just proof that once again, Kat is the golden daughter, and I am the mistake he keeps trying to fix.

My vision blurs with anger I can’t show. I sit there frozen, swallowing every emotion until it burns.

The meeting ends on Kat’s victory.

And my failure.