On television, the anchor called me “one of Boston’s most closely watched medical-technology founders.”

Olivia whispered, “Mom just dropped her glass.”

Then I heard Dad in the background.

“Give me the phone.”

His voice came on hard and breathless.

“Hannah, get dressed and come here now.”

“You told me not to.”

“This is different.”

I smiled without feeling anything.

“No. It’s exactly the same.”

Then Olivia sent me a photo from the ballroom.

Beside Dad’s champagne glass sat a glossy investment booklet.

Across the cover were the words:

REED CAPITAL DEVELOPMENT — STRATEGIC PARTNER: NORTHSTAR MEDICAL ROBOTICS.

My company.

My name.

And a partnership I had never approved.

PART 2

I called Northstar’s general counsel before calling my parents back.

Her name was Maya Collins, and after six years of working together, she had taught me one rule better than anyone.

Panic was expensive.

“Send me the photograph,” she said.