Chapter 2: The True Benefactor
"That's impossible!" Julian barked, standing up so fast his chair scraped violently against the floor. "You build spreadsheets! You do freelance IT work from your apartment!"
"I wrote an automated supply-chain routing algorithm when I was twenty-three, Julian," I corrected him, not raising my voice by a single decibel. "I sold the licensing rights to a global freight conglomerate for eighteen million dollars. I used that capital to found Sterling Crest."
I looked around the table at my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Their mouths were slightly open. The free childcare provider—the quiet, plain girl they shoved to the end of every holiday table—was suddenly speaking a language they couldn't comprehend.
"Three years ago," I continued, turning my eyes back to my father, "when Vance Construction defaulted on its primary commercial credit line, every bank in this city denied your refinancing applications. You were forty-eight hours away from payroll collapse."
My father swallowed hard. A bead of sweat traced a path down his temple despite the ballroom's air conditioning.
"An anonymous private lender stepped in," I said. "They purchased your distressed debt, extended your repayment schedule by thirty-six months at zero percent interest, and gave you a two-million-dollar operating credit line to keep your doors open."
"Sterling Crest..." my father breathed, the color draining from his lips.
"You thought you were a brilliant negotiator, Dad," I said, a cold, serene smile touching my face. "You bragged at Thanksgiving about how the 'suits in Chicago' practically begged to fund you. But they didn't fund you. I did."
"Why didn't you tell us?!" my mother cried out, her voice pitching high and defensive. "If you had that kind of money, why would you let us treat you like... like..."
"Like a servant?" I finished for her.
May you like
She flinched.
"I wanted to see how you would treat me when you thought I had nothing to offer you except my time," I said. "And tonight, you gave me my answer. Eight children. Seven days. Not even a single question about whether I had plans of my own."
