Mom Found Out About My ‘$8.2M Wedding’ Three Years Later – Through My Forbes Interview

Dad responded within an hour. “We’ll do whatever it takes,” he said.

I didn’t believe him—not yet. But I was willing to see if he meant it.

We started therapy in November. Dr. Morrison referred us to Dr. Patricia Gonzalez, a family therapist who specialized in narcissistic family dynamics and scapegoat recovery.

The first session was brutal. Madison refused to come, claiming she had nothing to apologize for.

Mom cried through the entire hour. Dad kept trying to explain and justify.

Dr. Gonzalez shut it down. “We’re not here to justify. We’re here to listen. Sarah, tell your parents how their actions made you feel,” she said.

I did. For 90 minutes, I walked through specific memories.

I talked about being excluded from family photos because I wasn’t dressed nicely enough. I talked about missing my college graduation dinner because Madison had a party.

I talked about being seated with strangers at Madison’s wedding and having my engagement dismissed. Mom kept saying, “We didn’t mean it like that,” and “That doesn’t matter.”

Dr. Gonzalez said, “Impact matters more than intent.”

By session four, we’d made a little progress. Dad acknowledged specific incidents.

Mom admitted she’d favored Madison. They both said they were sorry, but Madison still refused to participate.

She called me once, angry. “You’re making Mom and Dad go to therapy,” she said. “They’re devastated. This is so cruel.”

“I’m giving them an opportunity they never gave me,” I said. “To be heard, to matter, to exist as more than a supporting character in your life.”

“Everything isn’t about you, Sarah,” she said.

“You’re right,” I said. “That’s exactly the problem. Nothing was ever about me until I made it about me.”

She hung up. Three months into therapy, something shifted.

Mom stopped making excuses. Dad stopped trying to justify.

They started actually listening. In one session, Mom said something that cracked through all the walls.

“I was jealous of you,” she said quietly. “You were so smart, so capable. You didn’t need us the way Madison did. I told myself we were being practical, focusing on the kid who needed more help. But really, I was scared of you. Scared you’d leave us behind.”

“So you pushed me away first,” I said.

“Yes,” she whispered. “And I’m so, so sorry.”

It wasn’t enough, not yet, but it was real. If you’ve ever had to walk away to save yourself, tell me your story in the comments.

What would you have done? It’s been six months since that Forbes article came out—six months of therapy, boundary setting, and careful, cautious progress.

My relationship with my parents is different now. We have dinner once a month.

They ask about Techflow. They ask about James.

They actually listen. They met James for the first time in January.

He was skeptical and protective of me, but they showed up, were respectful, and asked good questions. Madison and I don’t speak.

She sent one email after the therapy started. “I can’t believe you’re holding our childhood over their heads like this. You are always so dramatic,” it said.

I didn’t respond. Dr. Gonzalez says I don’t owe her a response.

Some bridges burn for good reason. But here’s the thing: I’m not doing this for them.

I’m doing this for me—to see if repair is possible, to try one last time to have the family I always wanted. But I’m also prepared to walk away if it doesn’t work.

Because I learned the most important lesson three years ago when I walked down that aisle at the Plaza. Family isn’t about blood.

It’s about who shows up, who believes in you, and who celebrates your success instead of dismissing it. My real family was at that wedding.

Every single person who mattered was in that room. And if my parents can’t be part of my real family—the one built on respect, support, and genuine love—then they can stay in the past where they belong.

I’m worth $82 million. I run a company that’s changing how creative agencies work.

I’m married to a man who thinks I hung the moon. I’m surrounded by people who’ve supported me from the beginning.

I don’t need my parents’ validation anymore, but I’m willing to see if they can earn a place in my life. That’s not weakness; that’s the power of deciding what you deserve.