My Sister Mocked My “Manual Labor Job” At A Business Dinner. Then The Tv Behind Her Showed My $1.3b Net Worth. How Do I Handle The Apology Texts?

The Hidden CEO at the Family Table

The business dinner was at Morton’s steakhouse in Manhattan, Dad’s quarterly networking event where he brought together his corporate friends and business associates. He’d insisted I come, though he’d made it clear I was only invited because Mom had guilted him into it.

“It’ll be good for you to meet successful people,” he’d said on the phone. “Maybe someone can help you find a real career.”

I was 27 years old and I’d been running my logistics software company for five years. But to Dad, if you didn’t work in an office wearing a suit, you weren’t successful.

I showed up in dark jeans, a black turtleneck, and boots. They were practical and comfortable, the kind of outfit I wore when I was visiting warehouses or meeting with operations managers.

Dad’s face tightened when he saw me at the restaurant entrance.

“That’s what you’re wearing, Nina? This is a professional dinner,” he said. “I’m dressed fine,” I replied. “You look like you’re going to unload trucks,” he said. “Sometimes I do unload trucks when I need to understand the workflow,” I answered.

He closed his eyes briefly as if praying for patience.

“Please tell me you’re not going to talk about your warehouse job tonight,” he said. “It’s not a warehouse job; it’s a software company that optimizes logistics operations,” I told him. “Right, your company,” he made air quotes. “Just try not to embarrass me, okay?”

We walked into the private dining room where eight people were already seated. It was Dad’s usual crowd of corporate executives, finance guys, and a few lawyers.

My sister Jessica was there, 29 and working as a marketing director at a luxury brand. She was in full corporate armor with a designer suit, expensive jewelry, and perfect makeup.

She looked me up and down and smirked.

“Casual Friday came early this week,” she said. “It’s Tuesday,” I replied. “Exactly my point,” she said.

Dad started making introductions as we took our seats.

“This is my youngest daughter, Nina; she’s between opportunities right now,” Dad said. “I run a logistics software company,” I corrected quietly. “She works at warehouses,” Dad clarified to the table, his tone apologetic. “We’re hoping she’ll transition to something more professional soon,” he added.

One of his friends, a man in his 50s named Robert, smiled politely.

“What kind of work do you do at the warehouses?” Robert asked. “I don’t work at warehouses; I develop software that optimizes supply chain operations,” I said. “We work with warehouses, distribution centers, and fulfillment operations,” I explained.

“She helps them organize inventory,” Dad interrupted. “It’s entry-level logistics work,” he said.

I could have corrected him and explained that my company had 127 employees and $340 million in annual revenue. I could have mentioned clients that included three of the five largest retailers in North America.

But I’d learned over five years that Dad didn’t want to hear it. He decided when I dropped out of Columbia Business School that I was a failure, and nothing I said would change his mind.

Jessica leaned over to whisper loudly to the woman next to her.

“She’s been doing this warehouse thing for years; Mom and Dad are mortified,” Jessica whispered. “I can hear you,” I said calmly. “Good; maybe you’ll finally get the hint,” she replied.

The waiters brought appetizers, and the conversation shifted to stocks, real estate, and business deals. I ate my salad quietly, checking my phone periodically for updates from my CTO about the system deployment we were managing tonight.

“Nina, phones away,” Dad said sharply. “It’s rude,” he added. “I’m working,” I said. “You’re at a dinner,” he countered.

“I’m monitoring a major deployment for a client,” I explained. “We’re implementing new software across 47 distribution centers tonight,” I told him.

Robert raised an eyebrow.

“47 centers? That’s a significant operation,” Robert said. “It’s the fourth largest retailer in the country,” I said. “The deployment has to be coordinated precisely, or it could cost them millions in lost productivity,” I added.

“Nina has an active imagination,” Jessica said with a laugh. “She’s been claiming to run this huge company for years, but she works out of her apartment and drives a Honda,” she added.

“I work out of an office in Long Island City, 12,000 square feet, and I drive a Honda because it’s reliable,” I said. “Sure you do,” Jessica said. “Just like you manage teams and consult with Fortune 500 companies,” she mocked.

I set down my fork carefully.

“Why would I lie about that?” I asked. “Because you’re embarrassed about your actual job,” Jessica replied.

One of the lawyers spoke up.

“What’s the name of your company, Nina?” the lawyer asked. “Flow State Systems,” I answered.

He pulled out his phone and typed briefly, then stopped as his eyebrows rose.

“The Flow State Systems? The logistics optimization platform?” the lawyer asked. “Yes,” I replied. “My firm represented one of your competitors in an acquisition last year,” he said. “They were bought specifically because they couldn’t compete with your technology,” he added.

He looked at Dad.

“Your daughter founded Flow State?” the lawyer asked. Dad’s smile was frozen. “Nina’s been working on some software project,” Dad said weakly. “Flow State did $340 million in revenue last year,” the lawyer continued, still scrolling on his phone. “They’re the leading platform for warehouse automation and supply chain optimization,” he added. “Nina, you’re the founder?” he asked. “Founder and CEO,” I said.

The table had gone completely silent. Jessica was staring at me.

“That’s not… you don’t…” Jessica stuttered. “I started it five years ago,” I said calmly. “We began with small distribution centers, proved the ROI, and then scaled to larger operations,” I explained. “We now work with 18 of the 50 largest retailers in North America,” I added.

Dad’s friend Robert was on his phone now too.

“There’s an article here from Supply Chain Quarterly,” Robert said. “It says ‘Flow State has revolutionized logistics software,'” he read. He looked up at me. “It says ‘The CEO is Nina Brennan.’ That’s you?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied.

“But you work in warehouses,” Dad said weakly. “I visit warehouses to understand operations firsthand,” I explained. “I also spend time in our office managing a team of 127 people,” I added.

I told them about the software engineers, data scientists, operations specialists, sales team, and customer success staff.

“127 employees?” Robert interrupted. “Nina, what’s your company valued at?” he asked.

I hesitated because the valuation wasn’t public yet, and we were in the middle of Series C negotiations under NDA.

“I can’t disclose that right now,” I said. “But there is a valuation? You’ve raised institutional funding?” Robert asked. “Series A was $12 million from Lightseed Venture Partners,” I told him. “Series B was $45 million from Sequoia Capital,” I added. “Series C is closing next month,” I concluded.