The blood rushed to my fingertips, making them tingle as I held the key card to my own hotel, watching my sister block the entrance. My father’s booming laughter echoed from inside the Grand Azure’s lobby—the lobby I designed, the hotel I owned—while I stood outside like an unwanted solicitor.
«You can’t seriously think you’re coming in,» Vanessa said, her voice dropping to a condescending whisper.
She adjusted her designer dress, a knockoff I recognized immediately from the preliminary sketches my designer friend had shared during our lunch last week, and planted herself more firmly in the doorway. «This is the Grand Azure, Ellie. The tasting menu alone costs more than you make in a month.»
If she only knew I’d personally created that menu with our Michelin-starred chef. «He’s my father too,» I said, my voice steadier than I expected. The small envelope in my clutch containing the deed to a vacation villa in Tuscany, one of the Grand Azure’s most exclusive properties, suddenly felt heavy.
My name is Eleanor, I’m 38 and a hospitality entrepreneur. This is the story of how I reclaimed my place at a table I actually owned.
«Mom and dad were very specific,» Vanessa continued, checking her reflection in the glass doors. «They only want successful people here, people who won’t embarrass the family.»
The irony struck me like a physical blow. Just yesterday, I’d signed off on a $100 million expansion of the Grand Azure chain. Today, I was apparently too embarrassing to enter my own hotel. I fought the urge to laugh as the absurdity of the situation crashed over me.
Ten years ago, when I decided to leave the family’s small accounting firm to pursue hospitality management, they’d all but disowned me. My father’s words still resonated in my memory: «No daughter of mine is going to be a glorified waitress.» So I’d let them think what they wanted, let them believe I was struggling in restaurant management. Meanwhile, I’d built Azure Hospitality Group into one of the most successful luxury hotel chains in the country. The glorified waitress now owned thirty-five five-star hotels across three continents.
«Eleanor,» my mother’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts as she appeared behind Vanessa. «What are you doing here? We discussed this.»
No, they had discussed it. I’d received a text message from my mother this morning: «Don’t come to dad’s birthday. It’s at the Grand Azure. You can’t afford it. Don’t embarrass us.»
«I brought a gift,» I said quietly, holding up the small envelope.
«Oh, what is it? A gift card to Olive Garden?» Vanessa laughed. «Or did you scrape together enough tips to buy him something from the mall?»
My mother’s eyes narrowed at my simple clutch bag, a handmade Italian leather piece that cost more than Vanessa’s car. «Whatever it is, I’m sure your sister’s gift is more appropriate. She said she just made junior partner at her firm.»
You know, I knew just like I knew her firm was currently in negotiations to lease office space in one of my buildings—the lease they desperately needed and couldn’t quite afford. My real estate division had sent me the reports just yesterday.
«Vanessa’s doing so well,» mom continued, warming to her favorite topic, «new house in the suburbs, luxury car, wonderful fiancé with such good prospects.» She paused, giving me a critical once-over. «And you? Well, at least you’re trying, I suppose.»
I thought about my penthouse overlooking Central Park, my collection of rare sports cars, the private jet I’d flown in on this morning. «Yes, mom, at least I’m trying.»
«Speaking of trying,» Vanessa smirked. «That dress. Couldn’t you have made an effort? This is the Grand Azure, not some diner.»
I ran my hand over the sophisticated black silk, custom-made by one of Paris’s most exclusive designers—the same designer who had refused to make anything for Vanessa last month. A detail I’d learned when my stylist mentioned the incident during my last fitting. «It’s what I could manage,» I said mildly.
«Well, you can’t come in,» Vanessa declared. «We reserved the entire VIP floor. It’s for family and distinguished guests only.»
The VIP floor. My VIP floor. The one I’d personally redesigned last year, down to selecting every piece of artwork and crystal chandelier. «The distinguished guests being?» I asked, genuinely curious about who they’d invited.
«Oh, you wouldn’t know them,» my mother waved her hand dismissively. «The Andersons, they own that successful law firm, the Blackwoods, old money, you know, and Mr. Harrison from the bank. All very important people.»
I suppressed a smile. Thomas Anderson leased three of my properties. The Blackwoods had recently begged for a membership at my most exclusive resort. And Mr. Harrison? His bank was currently seeking a major loan from my investment group.
«Right,» I said, «very important people.»
«Exactly,» Vanessa said, clearly pleased I understood my place. «So you see why you can’t be here. What would people think if they knew dad’s failure of a daughter was serving their drinks?»
«Vanessa,» our mother chided softly, though her eyes showed approval. «Be nice. Eleanor made her choices. If she’d stayed with the family firm, like you did, things would be different.»
The family firm that now occupied a modest office in one of my buildings, always barely making rent. My property manager sent me monthly reports on all tenants, including my family’s struggling business. Just then, my brother-in-law Gavin appeared, straightening his tie.
