I shook my head.
“No need. The Morrisons care too much about appearances to make a scene in public.”
I smoothed down my custom-made suit, Armani, though they wouldn’t expect me to know the difference.
“Let’s give them time to settle in.”
Through the cameras, I watched my family members gather in the grand ballroom.
Diana held court near the champagne fountain, loudly explaining how she’d pulled strings to secure the venue.
My father stood with his business associates, probably discussing the latest banking merger.
Even my distant cousins were there, all carefully positioned to show off their perceived status.
At 7:10 p.m., right on schedule, the hotel manager approached Diana with the first hint that something was amiss.
“Miss Morrison, I’m afraid there’s been a slight issue with the reservation.”
Diana’s face darkened.
“What kind of issue? I personally arranged everything with your corporate office.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s just that the owner has some specific requests regarding tonight’s event.”
“The owner?” Diana laughed dismissively. “I seriously doubt RC Taylor concerns herself with individual events. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Actually,” I said, stepping into the ballroom, “RC Taylor concerns herself with quite a lot of things.”
The silence that fell over the room was absolute.
Every head turned toward me.
The uninvited relative, the family embarrassment, standing in the doorway of Manhattan’s most prestigious hotel, wearing a suit that costs more than Diana’s car.
“Rose.” My father’s voice carried across the room. “What are you doing here?”
“Diana said I couldn’t afford to attend,” I finished for him, walking slowly into the center of the room. “She was concerned I might embarrass the family.”
Diana stepped forward, her face flushed with anger.
“This is a private event. I’ll have security remove you.”
“No.” I cut her off. “You won’t.”
On Q, Nate pressed a button on his tablet.
The massive screen behind the stage lit up with the hotel’s logo and beneath it my full name.
Rose Charlotte Morrison Taylor, founder and CEO, RC Taylor Hotels International.
The gasps were audible.
Diana’s champagne glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the marble floor.
“That’s not possible,” she stammered.
“Would you like to see my business cards?” I asked sweetly. “Or perhaps the deed to the building. I have those right here.”
I patted the leather portfolio under my arm.
My father pushed through the crowd, his face a mix of shock and something else. Was it pride?
“You own the Starlight Grand and 16 other properties across three continents?”
“I confirmed. Though this one is special. It’s where I started my career as a junior housekeeper.”
While all of you were laughing at my foolish career choice, the memory surfaced again. Diana mocking my name tag, my aunts whispering about wasted potential, my cousins excluding me from family photos because I didn’t fit the image.