“But how?”
“The startup I mentioned at Thanksgiving. Remember? You said you were too busy to hear about another one of my little projects.”
Derek’s face had gone pale.
“What startup?”
“I developed a customer relationship management platform for luxury hospitality. It integrates booking systems, guest preferences, concierge services, housekeeping, and revenue management into one seamless interface. I sold it to three major hotel chains for $85 million 6 years ago.”
Silence.
“6 years ago, you were 26,” Marcus said slowly. “You were living in that tiny apartment working at the tech company.”
“Working on my software in the evenings,” I corrected. “The tech support job paid my bills while I developed the platform. It took three years to build.”
“$85 million,” my mother whispered.
“After taxes and paying back my initial investors, I netted about 50 million. I used 30 million to purchase this land and build the Grand Celestial. The rest I invested in a diversified portfolio that’s performed reasonably well.”
Victoria stepped forward, her tablet extended.
“Miss Chin, I hate to interrupt, but the architectural firm called about the Singapore property. They need your approval on the lobby designs by tomorrow.”
“Singapore property?”
Derek’s voice was strangled.
“We’re expanding internationally,” I explained. “The Grand Celestial Singapore will be our second property. Construction starts in March. We’re also in negotiations for locations in Paris and Tokyo.”
Charles smiled.
“Miss Chin has built a remarkable brand. The Grand Celestial isn’t just a hotel, it’s an experience. We’ve won 14 industry awards in 3 years, including best new luxury hotel and excellence in guest services. The waiting list for New Year’s Eve is 6 months long.”
Victoria added, “We’re completely booked through next Christmas already.”
My mother reached for a chair, sitting down beside Amanda.
“Sophie, my daughter Sophie owns this hotel and drives a Toyota,” Dererick said, still stuck on that detail. “Why?”
“Because it runs well and gets good gas mileage. Why would I need something else?”
“Because you’re rich.”
“Being rich doesn’t mean I need to be wasteful.”
Amanda found her voice.
“The Target clothes…”
“Are comfortable and well-made. I don’t need designer labels to feel successful.”
“But we thought…”
Marcus trailed off.
“We all thought you were struggling, barely making it.”
“You assumed that,” I corrected gently. “I never said I was struggling. You just decided that tech support meant failure.”
“Because you never corrected us.”
Dererick’s voice rose again.
“You let us think you were poor.”
“I tried to tell you about my work multiple times. You weren’t interested.”
My mother’s eyes were filling with tears.
“At Christmas 2 years ago, you tried to talk about your business. I said I didn’t want to hear about computers at dinner.”
“I remember.”
“And last Easter,” Marcus added slowly. “You mentioned you were traveling for work. I made a joke about budget airlines.”
“I was flying to Dubai to tour luxury hotels for research. First class, but you’re right. You did make that joke.”
Derek sank into a chair.
“At Thanksgiving when I was bragging about doubling dad’s revenue.”
“You hadn’t actually doubled it. I knew that because I checked the business filings, but you seemed happy believing it, so I didn’t correct you.”
“This whole time,” my mother said softly. “We’ve been patronizing you, feeling sorry for you, making little comments about your car, your clothes, your simple life.”
“Yes.”