They gave me the worst room on the family trip.<\/p>\n
They didn\u2019t know I owned the hotel.<\/p>\n
I decided to keep quiet and observe the annual reunion. My mother insisted on the tradition, though for me it meant a weekend of comparisons and cutting remarks. This year would be different\u2014Hotel Miramar, with its ocean view and perfect gardens, was mine, thanks to the inheritance my grandfather had secretly left me six months ago.<\/p>\n
At the lobby, my sister Lucia, the family favorite, was welcomed with hugs and smiles. I stood unnoticed until my mother spotted me and frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought you wouldn\u2019t come, Carmen,\u201d she said, disappointment plain.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wouldn\u2019t miss it for the world,\u201d I replied with a smile that didn\u2019t reach my eyes.<\/p>\n
Roberto, Lucia\u2019s husband, glanced me up and down. \u201cLooks like the graphic design business isn\u2019t so lucrative,\u201d he sneered. If only they knew my small company was now an internationally respected agency.<\/p>\n
When the room assignments came, my family got the best: presidential suite for Lucia and Roberto, executive suite for my parents, deluxe rooms for my cousins. And me? Room 108, first floor, next to the laundry\u2014the smallest, noisiest room. Miguel, the manager, looked uneasy. He knew the truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s fine,\u201d I said, taking the key. They didn\u2019t know that the hotel, every polished detail they were flaunting, was mine.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"