My Brother Humiliated Me at His Lavish Wedding and Seated Me at the Children’s Table—Until a Billionaire Investor Walked Past Everyone to Reveal the Secret Behind My Success.

Emmett’s eyes darkened slightly, a razor-thin flash of steel passing through his gaze. He glanced at the tiny balloon card labeled Table 19, then over at Nicholas, who was now scurrying toward us like an anxious moth drawn to a flame, his footsteps echoing too loudly against the silent limestone floor.

“Mr. Stewart!” Nicholas stammered, arriving at the table completely out of breath, his eyes darting frantically between Emmett and me as if trying to solve an impossible cipher. “I am so deeply sorry. My sister... she clearly confused the place settings. She has a habit of drifting out of the way. Please, let me escort you to Table One. The Governor’s chief of staff is waiting—”

“I’m quite comfortable where I am, Nicholas,” Emmett interrupted, his voice dropping into the quiet, terrifying authority that made Fortune 500 boardrooms sweat.

“B-but sir, this is the children’s table,” Nicholas choked out, his voice cracking, the polished keynote cadence completely shattered. “It’s right by the kitchen. It’s... it’s inappropriate.”

Emmett rested his forearms on the cartoon-printed paper, looking Nicholas dead in the eye.

“What’s inappropriate is exiling the sharpest strategic mind on the Eastern Seaboard to the scullery doors because you lack the vision to recognize genuine worth when it’s sitting right in front of you.”

Nicholas went entirely slack-jawed. “I... what?”

“Jenna commands a two-hundred-thousand-dollar monthly advisory retainer with my firm,” Emmett said cleanly, each word landing like a lead weight in the hushed perimeter of the room. “She writes the doctrine that drives our acquisitions. She negotiates our executive communications. In fact, Nicholas, the seed fund you submitted your pitch deck to last Thursday? The investment committee doesn't approve a dime without Jenna’s risk assessment on the founder’s character.”