“I’m sure Abby is quite capable of managing her own career,” Nathan replied, giving me an apologetic glance.
Throughout the evening, Hannah continued making similar comments. Each one a little needle designed to establish the hierarchy she needed to maintain. Every time she mentioned my admin job, I noticed Nathan’s increasingly puzzled expression, as if trying to place me.
The tension built steadily as dinner approached, and I wondered if I could make it through the evening without the past colliding with the present. Dinner was served at a long table set up on my parents’ patio, twinkling lights overhead, creating a warm glow against the evening sky. I was seated between my elderly grandmother and a distant cousin, while Hannah and Nathan occupied the places of honor at the center of the table beside our parents.
The catered meal was exquisite. Hannah had made sure of that. Conversation flowed, along with expensive wine.
I was almost starting to relax when my father stood to make a toast. “To Hannah and Nathan,” he said, raising his glass. “Hannah, you’ve always reached for the stars, and now you found someone equally ambitious to share your life with.
We couldn’t be prouder.”
Hannah beamed, basking in the approval I’d rarely experienced. After several more toasts, including a surprisingly heartfelt one from Nathan to his beautiful and passionate fiancée, Hannah stood up, commanding the table’s attention. “Nathan has some exciting news he’s too modest to share,” she announced.
“Tell them, honey.”
Nathan looked uncomfortable, but complied. “It’s not that big a deal, but I recently won a case against Bradford Pharmaceuticals. It was a team effort, really.”
“He’s being modest,” Hannah interjected.
“It was a seven-figure settlement, and Nathan was lead counsel. The partners are already talking about fast-tracking him to senior partner.”
As impressed murmurs circulated the table, I recognized the case immediately. It had been assigned to another judge initially, but transferred to my courtroom after Judge Brennan fell ill.
I remembered Nathan’s skillful arguments and professionalism. He’d earned that victory. Hannah, high on attention and perhaps too much champagne, continued.
“Nathan works with real judges and important clients every day. It’s such meaningful work.”
Her eyes found mine across the table, and I recognized the gleam in them. Here it comes.
“Not everyone can handle high-pressure careers, though,” she continued. “Some people are better suited to supporting roles, right, Abby?”
The table’s attention shifted uncomfortably to me. “Aby’s been an admin assistant for how long now, sweetie?
For years,” Hannah asked with false sweetness. “Three,” I replied quietly. “Three years,” Hannah repeated, as if this confirmed something disappointing.
“Nathan, did you know my sister works at a law office? Maybe you’ve crossed paths.”
Nathan looked at me with curiosity. “Which firm are you with, Abby?”
Before I could answer, Hannah laughed.
“Oh, Abby doesn’t work at a firm. She’s at the county courthouse answering phones or filing papers or something. What exactly do you do all day, Abby?”
The table had gone uncomfortably quiet.
My mother looked down at her plate while my father became suddenly interested in refilling his wine glass. “Administrative support,” I said evenly, the familiar lie bitter on my tongue. Hannah smiled triumphantly.
“See? Some of us were meant for greatness. Others for making coffee.
But we need both types in this world, don’t we?”
A few relatives chuckled awkwardly. Uncle Frank gave me a sympathetic glance. My grandmother patted my hand under the table.
“Hannah,” Nathan said quietly, a note of warning in his voice. But Hannah was on a roll now, perhaps sensing Nathan’s discomfort and misinterpreting it as embarrassment on her behalf. “It’s fine.
Nathan. Abby doesn’t mind. She’s always been the quiet one, happy to blend into the background.
We can’t all be overachievers.”
She raised her glass. “To knowing your place in the world.”
The toast hung awkwardly in the air. Few joined in.
I felt my cheeks burning. Not from embarrassment about my supposed position. From anger.
At Hannah’s deliberate cruelty. And my parents’ silent complicity. Nathan was looking at me intently now, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Matthews,” he said slowly. “Abigail Matthews from the county courthouse.”
Hannah beamed, pleased he was joining her narrative. “That’s right, honey.
Not everyone can argue important cases like you.”
Nathan shook his head slightly, still staring at me. “No. That’s not—wait.”
His eyes widened suddenly.
“You’re not administrative support. You’re—”
The moment hung suspended in time as Nathan’s memory finally connected the dots. “Abby,” he said carefully, “what exactly is your position at the courthouse?”
Every eye at the table turned to me.
Hannah’s smile remained frozen on her face, though confusion clouded her eyes. My parents looked bewildered by the sudden shift in conversation. For three years, I’d maintained this charade.
Swallowed my pride. Let my sister’s dismissive comments slide. In that moment, looking at Hannah’s smug expression, something inside me broke free.
I took a deep breath and met Nathan’s gaze directly. “Judge,” I said. The single word fell into a pool of silence, creating ripples of confusion around the table.
“What?” Hannah asked, her smile faltering, but not disappearing entirely. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Nathan’s face had gone completely still. Recognition was dawning fully now.
“Judge Matthews,” he said quietly. “Northern District Court.”
My grandmother’s hand tightened around mine beneath the table. “That’s impossible,” Hannah said, looking between Nathan and me, her voice rising slightly.
“Aby’s an administrative assistant. She’s told us that for years.”
“I never actually said that,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “Three years ago, I mentioned I was assisting Judge Thompson.
Everyone assumed that meant as an assistant. I just never corrected the misunderstanding.”
“I’ve appeared in her courtroom at least six times,” Nathan continued, still processing this revelation. “Bradford Pharmaceuticals.
That was your courtroom.”
My father sat down, his wine glass landing with a thud. “You’re a judge. An actual judge.”
My mother’s face had gone pale.
“But that’s not—You would have told us something like that.”
Around the table, relatives were exchanging shocked glances, whispering behind hands, reassessing every interaction they’d ever had with me. “The youngest judge appointed to the district in 50 years,” Nathan added, a note of respect in his voice. “I remember when the announcement was made.
I just never connected that Judge Matthews was Hannah’s sister.”
Hannah’s face had transformed completely. Shock gave way to disbelief. Then anger.
“This is absurd. You’re making this up for attention.”
“I’m not,” I said quietly. “She’s not,” Nathan confirmed.
“Hannah, your sister presided over the Bradford case. She’s highly respected in the legal community.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” my mother asked, her voice small and hurt. I looked around the table at the faces of my family members.
Some confused. Some impressed. Some embarrassed.
“Would it have mattered?”
“Hannah was always the star. My achievements never seemed to register.”
“That’s not true,” my father protested weakly. “Isn’t it?” I challenged.
“When I got into law school, you warned me about student loan debt. When I passed the bar, it was mentioned once at Sunday dinner and never again. I stopped sharing my successes because no one seemed interested.”
Aunt Patricia covered her mouth.
“Oh dear. All those times I asked if you’d found a better job yet.”
Uncle Frank looked mortified. “I told the judge of the Northern District Court that there was no shame in honest work.”
Under different circumstances, their reactions might have been comical.
Hannah abruptly stood, her chair scraping loudly against the stone patio. “This is my engagement party,” she hissed. “And you’re trying to steal the spotlight as usual.”
“As usual?” I repeated, incredulous.
“When have I ever stolen your spotlight?”
“You’re lying,” Hannah insisted, though doubt had crept into her voice. “Nathan, tell them she’s lying.”
Nathan stood slowly, placing a gentle hand on Hannah’s arm. “Hannah, she’s not lying.
Judge Matthews is well-known in legal circles. I’ve argued motions in her courtroom numerous times.”
Hannah jerked away from his touch, looking betrayed. “You knew?
You knew and you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t make the connection until just now,” Nathan explained. “Judge Matthews on the bench looks different.”
He gestured vaguely to my casual attire and loose hair. “Black robe.
Hair back,” I supplied. “Different context.”
My mother had started crying quietly. My father patted her hand mechanically while staring at me as if seeing a stranger.
Cousin Jessica, who had been watching the scene unfold with poorly concealed satisfaction, finally spoke up. “I went to her swearing-in ceremony. It was in all the legal journals.
Youngest judge appointed to the Northern District in five decades. It was a big deal.”
“And none of you thought to mention this to us?” my father asked, looking around accusingly. “She asked me not to,” Jessica replied simply.
Hannah was still standing, her face flushed
