I never told my family that I own a $1 billion empire. They still see me as a failure, so they invited me to Christmas Eve dinner to humiliate me and celebrate my younger sister becoming a CEO earning $500,000 a year. I wanted to see how they would treat someone they believed was poor, so I pretended to be a broken, naïve girl. But the moment I walked through the door…

“Della. You made it,” she said, her eyes scanning my shabby coat with a mixture of pity and distaste. She stepped aside, leaving a distinct gap between us. “Everyone’s in the living room. Madison just arrived from the office.”

I shuffled in, adjusting my coat so the frayed cuffs were obvious. The air smelled of cinnamon, pine, and expensive Merlot. Garland, woven with silk ribbons, draped the banister like a heavy necklace. The house buzzed with chatter, which fell silent as I crossed the threshold.

“Look who finally showed up,” my father, Robert, called from his leather recliner, barely glancing up from his tablet. His tone suggested I was a mild inconvenience, like a draft from an open window. “We were starting to think you couldn’t get time off from that little bookstore.”

Aunt Caroline approached, her expression of concern—usually reserved for terminal illnesses—fixed on me. “Della, sweetheart, we’ve been so worried about you. Living alone in that tiny apartment, working retail at your age…”

I nodded meekly, playing my part with methodical precision. “The bookstore keeps me busy, Aunt Caroline. I’m grateful to have steady work.”

“Steady work,” Uncle Harold echoed, swirling a glass of amber bourbon. He chuckled dismissively. “That’s one way to look at it. At thirty-two, I was already running my own accounting firm.”

Cousin Jessica appeared beside him, her diamond tennis bracelet flashing under the chandelier. “Speaking of success, wait until you hear about Madison. Half a million a year. Can you imagine? And I thought my commissions were impressive.”

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