The Pacific Royal Hotel’s ballroom glimmered under cascading chandeliers, a monument to opulence. My parents’ 35th anniversary celebration was everything you’d expect from the founders of Delgato Global Logistics—lavish, meticulously curated, and dripping with old-money prestige.

I stood near the dessert table, nursing a glass of champagne. My business was barely three years old, but it was already profitable, employing a dozen people and landing clients I’d once only dreamed about. Still, to my family, it was a “cute little project.”

“Sweetheart,” my mother’s voice sliced through the chatter, “how’s that hobby of yours? Still… what do you call it? Helping local shops sell things online?”

A ripple of laughter moved through the surrounding relatives. My cousin smirked. “Do you even make enough to pay rent with that?”

I felt the familiar sting of being underestimated—years of it layered like old scars. Before I could respond, a tall figure stepped forward. Michael Hart, my CFO, had arrived late from a meeting and now stood beside me, his calm demeanor radiating quiet authority.

“Actually,” Michael said, voice even but carrying across the group, “her company closed the quarter with $4.8 million in revenue and a 22% profit margin. We’re negotiating a partnership with a Fortune 500 retailer, and she’ll likely be expanding into three new markets by next year.”

The room went silent. My father’s champagne flute froze mid-air. My mother blinked twice, lips pressed together.

Michael smiled at me before turning back to them. “So yes, the ‘hobby’ is doing quite well.”

I didn’t need to add a single word. Their stunned expressions were enough. For once, I wasn’t the one on the defensive. I was the one holding all the cards.