Chapter 9 - The Family's Sudden Sense of Entitlement and the Unreasonable Demands
We moved into my private corner office—a spacious, minimalist sanctuary with a panoramic view of the mountains, furnished with walnut desks, contemporary art, and comfortable leather seating. Sarah Lin brought in fresh coffee and pastries on silver trays before quietly closing the double doors behind her.
As soon as the doors clicked shut, the dynamic in the room began to shift once again.
Now that the initial shock of the studio's sheer scale had settled, the overwhelming gravity of three point eight billion dollars began to work on their minds like a powerful intoxicant.
Mom sat on the plush sofa, looking around the palatial office with wide, glistening eyes. "Alexandra... this is beyond anything I could have ever dreamed. Your father and I... we gave up so much to raise you two. We paid for your college tuition, we supported your dreams..."
I raised an eyebrow slightly. "Mom, UCLA was covered by my academic scholarship and my part-time job at the library. You paid for Marcus's business school at USC."
Mom flinched, but quickly pressed on. "Well, yes, but we provided the home! The foundation! And now... with this kind of unimaginable wealth... we need to think about the entire family’s future."
Dad leaned forward, clearing his throat with an air of newfound paternal importance. "Your mother is right, Alexandra. A windfall of this magnitude isn't just an individual achievement—it's a generational milestone for the Vance family. We need to set up a family trust. An endowment. Something that ensures your brother, your future nieces and nephews, and our retirement are completely insulated from financial stress."
Jennifer nodded vigorously, her eyes darting between Dad and me. "Exactly! Marcus has been working himself to the bone with his real estate ventures. If he had just a fraction of this capital—say, twenty or thirty million dollars—to clear his short-term debt and capitalize a major development fund, he could take the Vance name to the next level in commercial development!"
I looked at the three of them, and then at Marcus, who was standing near the window, looking at me with a desperate, hungry longing.
"So let me make sure I understand," I said, my voice dangerously calm and measured. "Yesterday at five o'clock, I was an embarrassment. I was broke, thirty-two, playing pretend, and needed to move into your guest room to save on grocery bills. But today, because Wall Street wired two point one billion dollars into my holding account, I am suddenly responsible for clearing Marcus’s bad debts, funding his vanity real estate projects, and endowing a family trust?"
"That’s what families do!" Jennifer exclaimed, her voice rising in defensive indignation. "You have billions, Alexandra! Billions! What are you going to do with all that money? Hoard it while your own brother faces bankruptcy?"
"Watch your tone in my office, Jennifer," I said, my voice cutting through the room like a razor blade.
Jennifer froze, her mouth snapping shut.
"You speak of family," I continued, standing up behind my desk and looking directly at my parents. "Where was this fierce loyalty to 'family' when Marcus was humiliating me at the dinner table? Why didn't either of you stop him? Why didn't either of you tell him to show me basic human dignity?"
Dad looked down at his hands, unable to meet my gaze. Mom began to cry softly, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
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"We made a mistake, Alexandra," Dad murmured quietly. "We were wrong. We admit it."
"No, Dad," I replied firmly. "You weren't mistaken. You were complicit. You allowed Marcus to treat me like garbage for ten years because you thought he was the winner and I was the loser. And now that the scoreboard has flipped, you want the loser's billions to save the winner from his own foolishness."
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