“Still taking public transport?”
Mom mocked me across the Thanksgiving table.
“Your sister has three cars.”
My younger sister, Vanessa, lifted her wineglass and laughed.
Dad carved another slice of turkey.
Then he looked at me and said,
“Pathetic.”
I didn’t argue.
I simply checked my watch.
5:42 p.m.
Seconds later, my phone rang.
Bradley International Airport Operations.
I answered.
A calm male voice said,
“Ms. Bennett, your helicopter fleet is approaching.”
The laughter stopped instantly.
Mom’s face went completely pale.
Because they had spent eight years believing I was the failure in the family.
They had no idea I owned six helicopters.
Or that the next morning, I was buying the aviation company Dad had spent twenty years trying to impress.
