The table fell silent. My mother looked terrified. Tyler stared at his plate while James watched our father’s reaction carefully.

“Your career,” my father said finally, placing his silverware down with deliberate care, “hasn’t even begun. Yet, you speak with such certainty about your path, despite having virtually no real-world experience.”

“I have four years of internships, clinical work, and research,” I countered. “Just because it’s not in finance doesn’t make it invalid.”

“Four years of playing at being a lawyer,” he dismissed. “Let me tell you what I see. I see a young woman who had every advantage, every opportunity to excel in a field with proven success, and who chose instead to waste her potential on idealistic crusades.”

The restaurant seemed to quiet around us, or perhaps it was just the blood rushing in my ears that dampened other sounds.

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