Dad already had his phone out, thumb hovering over the screen, when the glass doors behind them swung open. My head of security, Marcus, walked out, followed by a dozen employees carrying a banner and a sheet cake. Mom turned, confused, as the whole group began to sing. Then she read the sign above the entrance, and the color drained from her face.

Dad’s phone slowly lowered. “Happy birthday, Lena!” someone shouted, and balloons floated up into the sky. Above the doors, in tall gold letters, was the company name, and beneath it, my title: Founder and CEO. Mom’s mouth opened and closed. “That’s not possible,” Dad whispered. I handed my keys to Marcus, looked at them calmly, and said, “Go ahead and call the police. I would love for them to meet everyone.”