A muscle in Sloane’s cheek twitches, the first crack in her composure. “I’m not going to debate this again, Emma. We’ve had this conversation a dozen times. If we can establish KidStream as their first screen experience, we own that audience for life. Let’s just vote.”
“No, we’re not voting yet.” My heart pounds against my ribs, but I force myself to hold her gaze. “First screen experience toown that audience for life? They’re two-year-olds, Sloane. They should be playing with blocks and reading picture books, getting dirty in the backyard and making up imaginary games. I’ve seen?—“
“Emma.” She cuts me off, her tone sharp. “You are acting?—“
“Did IsayI was finished speaking?” The words slice through the room like a shard of ice, and she actually blinks, startled into silence. I’ve had enough of being steamrolled by her. “I’ve seen the content you’re pushing. Addictive garbage designed to hook developing brains with zero regard for what it does to them. Screen time is going to happen, and parents deserve access to something safe during times when they need their kids occupied. It can be content that actually teaches kids instead of just exploiting them, like Mom and Dad originally intended.”
In my peripheral vision, Sophie looks at me with barely contained glee, and Erica and Morgan are no longer avoiding eye contact but listening intently, their gazes darting between Sloane and me like they’re watching a tennis match.
“Other companies are already targeting that demographic—“ Sloane starts.
“So what?” My voice is flat now, cold in a way I didn’t know I was capable of. “We arenotturning Mom and Dad’s legacy into predatory trash. And fuck every other company that puts profit over children. We don’t have to be part of that race to the bottom.” I pause briefly. “Erica. Morgan.” I turn to face them directly, these sisters I’ve known my whole life, these women I used to build blanket forts with and stay up late whispering secrets to in the dark. “I know you’ve been going along with this because it’s easier. But you don’t have to keep voting for things you don’t believe in. You have a choice.”
Erica’s eyes are shining now, bright with tears she’s trying to blink back. Morgan looks up with red-rimmed eyes that say everything about how she’s really been feeling.
“She’s right,” Morgan says quietly.
Sloane’s head snaps toward her. “Morgan?—“
“I’ve been uncomfortable with this for months.” Morgan straightens in her chair, and there’s a strength in her voice I wasn’t sure she had. “Every time we have one of these meetings I feel sick afterward.”
I blink. I honestly wasn’t expecting this to work. This has been going on for years, and back when I used to argue at board meetings, back before I gave up, Erica and Morgan would pull me aside afterward and tell me that Sloane was the oldest, that she knew how to run a business better than any of us, that I should trust her judgment and stop making waves.
I’d always hoped I’d eventually get through to them, that someday they’d see what I was seeing, and now that it’s actually happening I feel a relief so profound it makes my eyes sting. Like I might be getting part of my family back. I look over at Erica, and she gives me a half smile, watery and uncertain but real.
“Me too,” Erica adds. “Mom would have hated this and I know Dad does, Sloane. We’ve tried to talk to you about this, but you just don’t listen. And I’m...” Her voice wavers but she pushes through. “I’m tired of you telling us we’re stupid about the business. I’m tired of feeling like my opinion doesn’t matter just because I’m not as aggressive as you.”
Shock flickers across Sloane’s face before she gets her expression under control. For just a moment she looks like the sister I remember from childhood, uncertain and wounded, before the mask slides back into place.
“I’m calling for a vote,” I say, and my voice comes out steady even though my heart is racing. “To reject the platform overhaul. To restore the educational mission our parents created, reverse the engagement-focused changes, and take the toddler expansion off the table permanently.”
“You can’t just—“ Sloane starts.
“All in favor?” I ask loudly.
My hand goes up, steady and certain. Sophie’s follows immediately, and she turns to give me a smile that’s half tears,half triumph. Then Erica raises her hand, slowly, like she’s breaking through something that’s held her back for years. And finally, Morgan, her chin lifting with a defiance. Four hands in the air. Sloane’s stays down, her face ghostly.
“Motion carries,” Sophie says quietly. “Four to one.”
Sloane stares at us for a long moment, her jaw working like she’s trying to find words and can’t. Erica looks physically ill, her shoulders hunched like she’s bracing for impact, waiting for the explosion we all know is coming.
We grew up together, shared bedrooms and holidays and Sunday dinners, and yet Sloane has always been like this. Always the one who wielded her authority like a weapon, who made the rest of us feel small for disagreeing with her. It’s part of why I’ve kept my distance all these years, why moving felt like freedom even when it also felt like failure.
Sloane finally lets out a sharp, bitter laugh that has no warmth in it at all, gathering her portfolio and her bag with jerky, furious movements. “You want to run this company into the ground? Be my fucking guest.” Her voice is venomous, ugly. “I’m done. I’m so fucking done with all of you. You’re just as naive and small-minded as Mom was.”
“What the hell, Sloane,” Sophie says, and even Erica and Morgan look taken aback at the cruelty of invoking our mother like that.
“Good,” I say, and my voice is steadier than I feel. “Because Mom built something worth protecting. If being like her means caring more about children than profit margins, then I’ll take that comparison as a compliment.”
Sloane doesn’t respond. She just turns and walks out, her heels clicking against the floor, the door swinging shut behind her with a force that makes the glass rattle in its frame.
The silence that follows feels enormous.
I look at my other sisters, at Sophie’s tear-streaked face and Erica’s shell-shocked expression and Morgan’s trembling hands, and the reality of what just happened starts to sink in. Afteryears of Sloane running this company into something our parents would have been ashamed of, after months of Sophie fighting alone, after I ran away instead of staying to help, we finally stood together and said no.
Sophie reaches over and grabs my hand, squeezing so hard it almost hurts. “Holy shit,” she whispers. “We actually did it.”
“We did,” I say, and my voice cracks on the words. “We really did.”
