For three years, I endured her constant belittling at every family gathering.
“Oh, Julia, dear, is that dress from a department store?” or, “How fascinating that you used to serve coffee. It must be so nice to never have to work again.”
What Paige didn’t know, what no one except Oliver knew, was that while I was making coffee and studying, I’d also been investing in cryptocurrency since its early days.
Those investments had grown into a fortune that would make even the Andersons look middle class.
But I kept quiet, living simply and reinvesting my profits.
Oliver respected my desire to keep my wealth private, understanding it was the only way to know who truly valued me for myself.
As the vacation planning dinner wound down, Paige was practically glowing with self-importance.
“I’ve booked the entire Royal Pearl Island Resort for two weeks,” she repeated for perhaps the fifth time. “Private beaches, personal chefs, helicopter tours, only the best for the Andersons.”
I smiled and nodded, even as she explicitly excluded me from the guest list.
But as we drove home that night, I wasn’t plotting how to change her mind.
I was checking my phone for a very specific email.
Six months earlier, when I’d first heard Paige talking about wanting to book Royal Pearl Island, I’d made a few discreet inquiries.
The resort had been struggling financially due to the economic downturn, and its owner was looking for a quiet buyout.
Through a series of shell companies, I’d acquired not just the Royal Pearl Resort, but the entire island.
I had kept the previous management in place, knowing this day would come.
The email I was waiting for arrived just as Oliver turned onto our street.
Acquisition complete. All paperwork finalized. Royal Pearl Island is officially yours.
“You’re being awfully quiet,” Oliver said as we entered our modest home.
The homepage constantly suggested we upgrade to something more befitting in Anderson.
“Just thinking,” I replied, unable to suppress a small smile.
“I’m so sorry about my mother,” he sighed, loosening his tie. “I’ll tell her tomorrow that we’re both staying home.”
I took his hands in mine.
“Actually, I think you should go.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Without you, no way.”
“Trust me,” I said, feeling a plan crystallize in my mind. “I think it’s time your mother learned that appearances can be deceiving.”
The next morning, as the Andersons boarded their private jet to the Maldes, I made another call.
It was time to set my plan in motion.
Paige had no idea that her perfect vacation was about to teach her an unforgettable lesson about judging people by their backgrounds.
While their plane was somewhere over the Indian Ocean, I was making arrangements of my own.
My laptop displayed the resort’s security feeds, a feature the previous owner had installed that was about to become extremely useful.
I had set up a secure connection to the resort system that allowed me to monitor everything remotely from our home office.
The Anderson family arrived at Royal Pearl Island Resort late that afternoon.
I watched through the cameras as Paige led the group across pristine white sand beaches toward the luxury villas.