My Brother Mocked My “Broke” Artsy Life At His $140k Wedding. He Didn’t Realize I Own 81% Of His Company, And I Just Fired Him The Morning After. Am I The Jerk For Ending His Career During His Honeymoon?
*”He’s misrepresenting board decisions to investors. If that money transfers, we’re looking at potential criminal liability for the entire firm.”*
I watched through the glass doors as Marcus laughed with Emma’s father, completely oblivious.
*”Has he been drinking tonight?”*
Richard asked.
*”Yes. That might explain the recklessness, but it doesn’t excuse it.”*
*”As majority shareholder, you need to make a decision. We can either remove him as CEO effective immediately, or we wait until Monday and risk him actually executing this fraudulent deal.”*
Through the glass, I could see my mother showing wedding photos to relatives. Marcus was the star of every image.
My father stood with his arm around Marcus’s shoulder, beaming with pride at his son, the financial genius.
*”Schedule an emergency board meeting for tomorrow morning,”*
I said quietly.
*”9:00 a.m. I’ll be there in person.”*
*”You’re sure? That will reveal—”*
*”I’m sure. Notify all board members and legal counsel. Marcus needs to be there, too.”*
*”He’ll want to know who called the meeting. Tell him the truth. Tell him the majority shareholder called it. Let him spend tonight wondering who that is.”*
Richard was quiet for a moment.
*”I’ll send the notifications within the hour. See you tomorrow, Miss Hartley.”*
## A Confrontation Under the Stars
I ended the call and stood on the terrace, looking out at the Manhattan skyline. The city glittered like scattered diamonds, beautiful and indifferent.
Back inside, the band was playing “The Way You Look Tonight.” Marcus was dancing with Emma, spinning her under his arm while guests applauded.
He caught my eye and grinned, pointing at me with his free hand like I was in on the joke, like we were all celebrating his success together.
I raised my champagne glass in response. My phone buzzed with Richard’s email.
*Emergency board meeting: Sunday, October 15th, 9:00 a.m. Hartley Investment Group offices. Called by Majority Shareholder: Blackwell Capital Management. Required attendance: All board members, CEO Marcus Hartley, Legal Counsel.*
I watched as Marcus’ phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He ignored it, lost in the moment with his new wife.
Finally, he pulled it out, his smile fading as he read the screen. He stopped dancing, causing Emma to stumble slightly.
She said something to him, concerned, but he wasn’t listening. He was staring at his phone like it had just betrayed him.
He looked around the ballroom wildly. Then, his eyes found me on the terrace.
Even through the glass, I could see the confusion on his face.
*”Who the hell is Blackwell Capital?”*
he mouthed.
I simply smiled and raised my glass again. Marcus extracted himself from Emma and strode toward the terrace doors, yanking them open.
*”What the hell is this?”*
He thrust his phone at me.
*”Emergency board meeting tomorrow morning during my honeymoon weekend? Who does Blackwell Capital think they are?”*
*”I don’t know, Marcus. What does the email say?”*
*”It says they own 81% of voting shares.”*
His voice was rising, drawing attention from nearby guests.
*”That’s impossible. I know every major investor in my firm.”*
*”Maybe you don’t know them as well as you think.”*
*”This is ridiculous. I’m calling Richard right now.”*
He started dialing, but I reached out and gently pushed his phone down.
*”Marcus, it’s your wedding night. Don’t you think this can wait until tomorrow?”*
*”Wait? Sarah, this is my company. Some mysterious shareholder can’t just call emergency meetings and demand my presence.”*
He ran his hand through his hair, agitated.
*”This is probably one of the European investors getting cold feet about the crypto deal. I’ll straighten it out tomorrow, but this is totally unprofessional timing.”*
Emma appeared at his elbow.
*”Marcus, what’s wrong? Everyone’s asking why you stopped dancing.”*
*”Work stuff,”*
he muttered.
*”Nothing I can’t handle on your wedding night.”*
Emma’s voice went cold.
*”Seriously? It’s just a meeting tomorrow morning. I’ll deal with it quick and then we’ll head to the Maldives as planned.”*
*”You’re supposed to be on our honeymoon.”*
*”I know, babe, but this is important. Some investor is throwing their weight around, probably trying to block my crypto deal. I just need to remind them who actually runs the company.”*
I sipped my champagne, saying nothing. Marcus turned back to me.
*”You don’t know anything about Blackwell Capital, do you? They’re not one of your artsy Brooklyn friends trying to invest or something?”*
*”I barely have enough money for rent, remember? How would I know major investors?”*
He nodded, satisfied with this logic.
*”Right. Sorry, I’m distressed. This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, and now I have to deal with board politics.”*
*”Maybe they have legitimate concerns,”*
I suggested carefully.
*”About what? I’ve made seven investments, so they haven’t all paid off immediately. That’s how venture capital works. You take risks, you learn, you adjust.”*
*”But these old guard board members don’t understand that you have to trust your instincts.”*
*”Maybe instincts aren’t enough.”*
He laughed, the patronizing sound I’d heard my entire life.
*”Sarah, no offense, but you don’t really understand how high-level finance works. These are complex decisions that require years of experience and a sophisticated understanding of market dynamics.”*
*”Of course,”*
I said.
*”What do I know about money?”*
*”Exactly.”*
He seemed relieved that I understood my place.
*”Look, I love you, sis, but we live in different worlds. You do your art thing, I do the finance thing. That’s just how we’re wired.”*
Emma tugged at his arm.
*”Marcus, can we please get back to our wedding?”*
*”Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”*
He pocketed his phone and smoothed his jacket.
*”Tomorrow morning, I’ll sort this out, remind everyone who the CEO is, and then we’ll be on a plane to paradise. Simple.”*
They walked back into the ballroom, Marcus’s arm around Emma’s waist. Within minutes, he was dancing again, laughing with guests, the picture of confidence.
I stayed on the terrace until the reception ended, watching my brother celebrate his perfect life while his perfect company crumbled beneath his feet like sand.
## The Boardroom Showdown
Sunday morning arrived, cold and gray. I stood outside the Hartley Investment Group offices at 8:45 a.m., wearing a charcoal business suit I’d purchased specifically for this occasion.
My leather portfolio contained detailed financial reports, legal documents, and ten years of investment records. The office building was eerily quiet on a Sunday.
Richard met me in the lobby.
*”Miss Hartley.”*
He extended his hand.
*”The other board members are already upstairs. Marcus arrived ten minutes ago. He’s agitated.”*
*”I imagine he is.”*
We rode the elevator to the 23rd floor in silence. Through the glass walls of the conference room, I could see six board members seated around the table.
They were executives from various investment firms, all personally recruited by me through Blackwell Capital, all loyal to the majority shareholder, not to Marcus.
Marcus stood at the head of the table, his back to the door. Even from behind, I could see the tension in his shoulders.
He was still in his honeymoon clothes—jeans and a polo shirt—clearly having come straight from his hotel. Richard opened the conference room door.
Marcus spun around.
*”Finally. Richard, what the hell is—”*
He stopped mid-sentence when he saw me behind Richard.
*”Sarah? What are you doing here?”*
*”Miss Hartley is here at my invitation,”*
Richard said calmly.
*”Your invitation, Richard? I appreciate that you’re trying to include family, but this is a serious business meeting. Sarah doesn’t understand. Please, everyone, sit.”*
