He Married My Sister, Then Needed Me

My younger sister Ella and I liked the same person for ten years.

Ethan White said he liked gentle and considerate girls.

Ella was a natural at acting cute. I couldn't pull it off.

Whenever the three of us were together, he only talked to Ella.

I sat beside them like a telephone pole.

On college graduation day, he and Ella got their marriage license.

I left in a huff. Went abroad, got an MBA with a full scholarship.

Hustled for four years building a startup. By year six, the company went public.

Recently I heard Ethan White's cash flow had dried up.

He's been begging people everywhere for investment, and posted on Instagram:

"Meeting a major investor tomorrow, wish me luck!"

Ella commented below: Honey, you've got this! You're the best!

I looked at the schedule my secretary sent for tomorrow.

9:30 AM, meeting with a small company CEO about financing.

The name column read---

Ethan White.

My mom called begging me: "Jenna, Ethan White can barely hold on, you have to help."

"Help with what?"

"His company's in trouble, looking for investors everywhere. You studied abroad all those years, you must know people in this business, right? Help make a connection."

Mom said this casually, like she was asking what to cook for dinner.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Don't just 'see.' Ella's anxious. And you---over thirty and still not married, what's the point of building such a big career? Look at your sister, what a great marriage she has."

"You've been drifting around abroad for six years, not even coming home for holidays. After Ella married Ethan, she's been taking care of me and your father constantly. What have you ever done?"

"But when Dad had surgery that year, I paid all the hospital bills."

"So what, you transferred money and that makes you great? Two hundred thousand to buy yourself peace of mind? Where were you when your sister stayed in the hospital room for seven days and nights? Abroad making your money!"

I didn't respond.

"You know what, you've been competitive since you were little. Always comparing yourself to Ella. What did you end up with? Ella married a good man. And you? Over thirty, alone abroad, not even someone who cares about you."

I looked at Ethan White's name on the schedule, my finger lightly swiping across the screen.

"Mom, it's almost midnight."

"Fine, fine, you're busy. You're always busy." Mom's voice lowered a bit. "Your sister wants you to help find out what kind of person the investor Ethan's meeting tomorrow is, so he can prepare."

The investor is me.

"Okay, I'll ask around."

After hanging up, a Snapchat message popped up.

Ella's voice message. Thirty-six seconds.

She always sent voice messages, never typed.

"Jenna, Mom told you, right? Ethan's under so much pressure lately, he can't sleep every night. You've been abroad so long, you must know lots of people in investment, right? Help us ask around."

She paused.

"Oh, what is it you do again? Internet or something? I can't quite remember."

Thirty-six seconds and she couldn't even remember what I do.

The news coverage of the IPO included my full name. She wouldn't search for it.

The family group chat was buzzing too.

Mom: [Ethan has an important meeting tomorrow, let's all cheer him on, hope he secures the investment!]

Dad responded with a thumbs up.

Ella: [Honey's the best! He can definitely do it!]

Twenty-something messages scrolled by, not one related to me.

Six years.

I only read messages in this group, never replied.

I used to try. The day I closed Series A funding, I sent: Got Series A.

No one asked what Series A was.

Ella replied: [Jenna, you're still working on that little project? Keep it up.]

After that I stopped posting.

Secretary Amy's call came through.

"Miss Harris, tomorrow's 9:30 client's assistant called to confirm the time. Materials are ready, should I send them now?"

"Just leave them on the desk."

"Okay. Also---the assistant seemed pretty anxious, asking if they could meet ten minutes earlier."

"Tell them to wait in the reception room when they arrive. Time stays the same."

"Understood, Miss Harris. Anything else we need to prepare?"

"No preparation needed. Just follow the standard financing consultation procedure."

"Jenna, why aren't you replying to my messages?"

At seven in the morning, Ella's second voice message exploded into my phone. Forty-two seconds.

"Jenna, Ethan didn't sleep well again last night, I'm so worried for him. I know you're busy, you have your own things to handle. But if Ethan can't close this deal---we might have to mortgage the house. Our daughter's kindergarten fees next semester---"

Her voice choked up here.

House, daughter, tuition.

Each keyword precisely stabbing at the two words "family obligation."

Ten years. She used sweetness and cuteness on Ethan White, used misery and pressure on me. Sweet and miserable were her only two frequencies.

I didn't reply.

On the drive to the office, my phone rang again.

Caller ID: Claire Smith.

College roommate, hadn't been in touch for over four years.

"Jenna? Long time no see! Heard you're back in the country?"

"Why'd you think to reach out?"

"Ha, your sister mentioned you at a dinner party a few days ago---"

"What did she say?"

"She said you went abroad because of a broken heart. That you liked her husband Ethan White for ten years, couldn't win him over, and left for abroad in a fit."

My grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"Everyone was feeling for you, how hard these years abroad must have been. Your sister even said you're still not married, probably still can't let go."

"Her eyes were red, weren't they?"

"How did you know? Yes! She said the person she feels most sorry for in this life is you. But she also said---she said you've been stubborn since childhood, competing with her over everything, even studying abroad was to prove you're better than her. She said she actually feels bad for you."

Claire's laugh was light.

But every word was like a soft knife.

Ella used the most pitiful posture to write my character for me---a pathetic older sister who failed at chasing a man, left abroad in a huff, worked desperately to prove herself, and still couldn't get married in her thirties.

Six years. Rang the bell at the New York Stock Exchange, market cap nearly ten billion, over five hundred employees globally.

In her mouth, it all amounted to nothing more than "heartbroken woman who ran away and can't get married."

"What else did she say?"

"Said you cried at the airport that day, so heartbreaking---"

"I cried at the airport?"

"Yeah, she---"

"Claire."

"Hm?"

"My flight abroad was at 4 AM. I took a cab to the airport by myself. No one saw me off, no one knew what time I left."

Silence on the other end for two seconds.

"Including Ella. She didn't even know what day I departed, how would she know if I cried or not?"

Claire went quiet.

After a while she asked softly: "So these past few years---"

"Pretty good. The company's been busy."

"Your sister said you opened a small online shop abroad---"

"Not a shop."

I didn't explain further.

"Claire, anything else? I've arrived at the office."

"Oh, okay, then let's meet up sometime? Your sister said she's always wanted to---"

"No thanks. Busy lately."

I hung up. The car pulled into the underground garage.

Engine off.

She cried at the airport. She went abroad because of a broken heart. She still can't let go.

This narrative---how many people had Ella told? At how many dinner parties, with that red-eyed pitiful look, did she reduce my six years to a single sentence about running away?

My phone vibrated. Family group chat.

Ella: [Jenna's been back in the country recently but won't reach out to me. Is she still mad at me...]

Mom: [That's just how she is, don't mind her. If she won't help Ethan, forget it.]

Dad: [Stop talking about it, the most important thing today is Ethan's matter.]

Every message defaulted to Ella's version.

I was the petty, grudge-holding, unmarriageable older sister.

She was forever the kind yet heartbroken little sister.

The elevator arrived. Amy stood at the corridor entrance.

"Good morning, Miss Harris. Starlight Tech's preliminary screening---the investment department added a few attachments, do you want to see them now?"

"Bring them in."

"9:30 meeting time stays the same?"

"Same."

"How should we approach it?"

I walked into the office.

"Follow the rules. Who he is doesn't matter. The project speaks for itself."

"Jenna, are you there?"

7:23 AM.

Ethan White's Snapchat message appeared on my phone.

In six years, this was the first time he'd messaged me.

Not to ask how I was. Not to say long time no see.

To ask for help.

"I'm meeting an investor this morning at 9:30, a company called Summit Holdings. You've been abroad so many years, do you know anyone there? Help me get some intel on what kind of person their CEO is."

I looked at this message.

Ten seconds later, another one.

"Ella said you did something with investment banking? Then you must understand this circle a bit. Help me ask around, this is really important to me."

Investment banking.

That's how Ella introduced me to him.

He didn't even know what I did. That "investor" was my company. That "CEO" was me.

But he didn't know. No one told him.

Just like no one ever cared.

I didn't reply.

Another message popped up.

"Jenna? Did you see my message?"

Then:

"I know you might still care about what happened before. But that's all in the past. Help me with this, for Ella's sake."

Care about what happened before.

He thought I wasn't replying because I still resented him for marrying Ella. Not because I had over forty emails waiting to be processed first thing in the morning.

He thought my world still revolved around him.

I shut off my phone and walked into the company.

By the time I sat at my desk, Amy had already organized the day's schedule.

"Miss Harris, I went through Starlight Tech's due diligence attachments. The investment department has a finding."

"Go ahead."

"Their core product LINKER's underlying conceptual framework highly matches the paper you published in the school journal in 2016. Keyword overlap exceeds seventy percent."

"I know."

"The investment department initially thought it was a related party project and specifically came to confirm with me. Your name isn't in any of Starlight's documents."

"Of course not."

Amy hesitated.

"If we need to go through intellectual property procedures---"

"We don't."

"But Miss Harris---"

"If a concept only stays in a notebook, it's nothing. He at least took it and did something with it. Whether he succeeded is another matter."

Amy pressed her lips together.

I finished flipping through his business plan.

Four product lines, not one viable. Technical team configuration unbalanced. Customer acquisition cost model still using data from three years ago.

My phone lit up again. Family group chat.

Ella: [Honey's already left! Everyone pray for him]

Right after, she private messaged me:

"Ethan said you didn't reply to his message. Can you just help me this once? He's really nervous."

Then an eight-second voice message:

"Is your phone dead? Did you even see it or not?"

I closed Snapchat.

8:50 AM.

Amy poked her head through the door.

"Miss Harris, Mr. White from Starlight Tech arrived at reception. He's forty minutes early. Should we arrange for him to go to the meeting room?"

"Arrange it. One glass of water."

"Okay."

She walked out two steps then turned back.

"The receptionist said---after he arrived he made a phone call, not quietly."

"What did he say?"

"He told whoever was on the phone: 'Don't worry, I've seen plenty of investment companies this size, today's just going through the motions.'"

Summit Holdings, last year's assets under management: twenty-six billion.

In his mouth, we were just going through the motions.

"Amy."

"Yes."

"Notify him at 9:30 sharp. Not a minute earlier."

"It's 9:28, Miss Harris."

Amy gently reminded from outside the door.

I closed the report I was halfway through reviewing.

My phone lit up on the desk.

Ella's voice message. Fifteen seconds.

"Ethan said he messaged you and you didn't reply. Are you doing this on purpose? This meeting is really important for him today. If you won't help, fine, but don't drag him down."

A pause.

Her tone switched frequencies.

"I'm telling you, Jenna, if Ethan's meeting falls through today, I'm telling Mom and Dad it's because of you. You're taking out your frustration about not getting married on us---when will you ever grow up?"

Fifteen seconds to say all that without breathing.

With outsiders she draws out every word coyly. With me every word stabs without gaps.

Mom's call came right after.

"Jenna, are you fighting with Ella again?"

"No."

"Then why won't you help Ethan? It's a ten-minute thing and you're making excuses."

"Mom, I'm at work---"

"What's so important about that little company of yours? Ethan's matter is serious business, can't you tell what's important?"

"Mom---"

"Don't Mom me! I'm telling you, Jenna, if you won't even help with this little thing, don't come back to this house. You ran off after college graduation, you weren't there when your dad had surgery, you didn't come to your sister's wedding. Six years. Have you done one thing for this family?"

I leaned back in my chair.

Outside the window the September sunlight was blindingly white.

"You've been competitive since you were little, always comparing yourself to your sister. What for? You've worked yourself to death, what's the point?"

From far away on the other end---Ella's voice: "Mom, stop, she has her reasons."

Mom sighed.

"Fine, don't help then. You never cared about this family anyway."

Beep---

She hung up.

I placed my phone on the desk.

My fingertips felt nothing. Not pain, just gripped too tight.

The day I rang the bell at the NYSE, I stood on the platform watching colorful confetti fall, hundreds of people applauding below. The lights were scorching.

In that moment what I thought wasn't about success.

It was: if only Mom could see this.

Later I sent that video to the family group chat.

No one replied.

Two hours later Ella sent: [Did you go traveling? Looks so fancy.]

Then the group started discussing what color Ethan White's new car was.

"Miss Harris."

Amy's voice came from the doorway.

"It's 9:30 sharp. Mr. White has been waiting in the meeting room for ten minutes. Should I bring him over now?"

I opened my eyes.

Sat up straight.

Materials spread on the desk in front of me. Debt ratio, cash flow, product progress, thirty million in financing---every data point in my hands.

"Bring him in."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Leather shoes hitting the floor with steady, confident rhythm.

Amy's voice arrived first: "Mr. White, this way please."

The door pushed open.

Ethan White stood in the doorway.

Sharp suit, business plan bound and held in his hands. A practiced smile on his lips, the standard expression for meeting unfamiliar investors.

He looked up.

His gaze swept across the office, across the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Landed on my face.

The smile disappeared.

The document slipped an inch between his fingers.

His lips moved, his voice like something was blocking it.

"...Jenna? Jenna Harris?"

I looked into his eyes.

From this end of the desk to that end, less than two meters.

Ten years ago when three people sat together, his gaze never lingered on me.

"Mr. White, please sit."