They gave me the worst room on the family trip.
They didn’t know I owned the hotel.
I decided to keep quiet and observe the annual family reunion.
It was a tradition my mother insisted on maintaining, though for me it always meant a weekend of constant comparisons and cutting remarks.
This year would be no different—except that the luxurious hotel where we would stay was now my property, thanks to the inheritance my grandfather had secretly left me six months earlier.
When I arrived at the lobby of Hotel Miramar, my heart was beating fast.
I watched as my sister Lucia, the family favorite, was welcomed with hugs and smiles by everyone.
No one noticed my presence until my mother saw me and frowned.
“I thought you wouldn’t come, Carmen,” she said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.
“I wouldn’t miss our family reunion for anything in the world,” I replied with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.
My brother-in-law Roberto—Lucia’s husband—looked me up and down, evaluating my outfit as always.
“Seems like the graphic design business isn’t so lucrative after all,” he commented with a mocking smile.
If only they knew.
My small company was now a respected agency with international clients, but I never bothered to correct their assumptions.
What hurt me most was the secret I kept.
This five-star hotel, with its impeccable gardens and ocean view, now belonged to me.
Grandfather had always seen something in me that the rest of the family ignored.
“We distributed the rooms,” my mother announced as Manager Miguel handed out the keys.
My sister and her husband received the presidential suite with ocean view.
My parents got an executive suite.
My cousins received deluxe rooms.
And me.
“Carmen, you’ll stay in room 108 on the first floor,” my mother said.
“The room next to the laundry.”
“The smallest and noisiest room in the hotel.”
Everyone exchanged glances—some with shame, others with poorly disguised amusement.
Miguel, the manager, seemed uncomfortable.
“Ma’am, we could look for another option for the young lady,” he began.
But my mother interrupted.
“It’s not necessary. Carmen is simple. She doesn’t need luxuries.”
I saw how Miguel looked at me with concern.
He knew who I really was.
But we had agreed to keep my position as owner secret during this family reunion.
“It’s fine, Miguel,” I said calmly.
“Room 108 will be perfect.”
I took the key and headed to the elevator, feeling my family’s eyes on my back.
On the way, I heard my cousin Daniela whisper.
“As always, Carmen settles for the leftovers.”
The room was exactly as I remembered.
Small, with a window overlooking the service area and the constant noise of the laundry machines.
I sat on the single bed and took a deep breath.
I wasn’t here to confront my family or to humiliate them by revealing I was the owner.
I was here to understand why they treated me this way.
Why, after thirty years, they still saw me as the least valuable.
That night during the welcome dinner at the hotel restaurant, my family occupied the best table.
My chair was partially hidden behind a column.
While everyone ordered the most expensive dishes on the menu, I ordered a simple salad.
“Can’t you afford something better, Carmen?” my father asked with a mixture of mockery and pity.
“We can treat you if you want.”
“The salad is fine. Thank you,” I replied, maintaining my dignity.
The conversation revolved, as always, around Lucia’s achievements.
Her recent promotion at the bank.
Her new house in the exclusive neighborhood.
“Our Lucia always knew what she wanted,” my mother said proudly.
“Not like Carmen, who wasted her life with this drawing business.”
The head chef approached our table to personally greet the guests.
Upon seeing me, he made a small bow that didn’t go unnoticed.
“Was the salad to your liking, Miss Carmen?” he asked respectfully.
“Delicious, Antonio,” I replied.
“Thank you.”
My family looked at me strangely.
“You know the chef?” Lucia asked, surprised.
“We’ve crossed paths before,” I replied vaguely.
The truth was that I had personally hired Antonio three months earlier after Grandfather left me the hotel.
The night progressed, and with each glass of wine, the comments directed at me became more cutting.
The secret I kept was weighing on me more and more.
Should I reveal the truth?
What would they do if they knew that every insult—every humiliation—occurred under my own roof?
Miguel approached discreetly.
“Miss Carmen, there’s an urgent matter that requires your attention,” he said quietly.
“What could be so urgent for Carmen?” Roberto mocked.
“Did they run out of colored pencils?”
I stood up calmly, ignoring the comment.
“Excuse me. I’ll be back in a moment.”
In the private office, Miguel looked concerned.
“Miss, I can’t continue watching how they treat you.
You’re the owner of this place.”
“I know, Miguel,” I said. “But I need to understand something before revealing the truth.”
“There’s a family wound that’s been open for a long time.”
I looked out the window at the dark sea.
“And I think I’m close to discovering why my family hates me so much.”
I returned to the table where my family continued enjoying exclusive desserts.
My cousin Javier was in the middle of a story about his recent purchase of a sports car when my aunt Elena—always the most observant—asked me:
“What did that employee want with you?”
“Carmen, do you know him from somewhere?”
I felt all eyes fix on me.
“Just a confusion with the reservation,” I replied casually, taking a sip of water.
“Typical of Carmen,” Lucia murmured to Roberto, loud enough for me to hear.
“Always causing problems.”
That night, when everyone retired to their luxurious rooms, I stayed in the deserted lobby.
Miguel approached with a cup of tea.
“Your grandfather would be proud of you,” he said quietly.
“Don Ernesto always knew you would be the one to best care for his legacy.”
I smiled melancholically.
“My grandfather was the only one who saw something special in me. Sometimes I wonder if he wasn’t mistaken.”
Miguel shook his head firmly.
“In the few months you’ve been running the hotel, you’ve implemented more improvements than any previous owner.”
“The staff respects you.
Don Ernesto wasn’t mistaken.”
The next day, during the breakfast buffet, I noticed that several staff members greeted me with disguised respect.
My family was too busy serving themselves the most exclusive delicacies to notice.
“Carmen, are you only eating that?” my mother asked, looking at my plate of fruit and yogurt.
“That’s why you’re so thin. You look sick.”
“I’m perfectly healthy, Mom,” I replied. “I simply prefer to start the day with something light.”
Roberto burst out laughing.
“Light?
Actually, economical. I bet you calculate every penny you spend.”
The comment provoked laughter at the table.
I took a deep breath and focused on my breakfast.
It wasn’t the moment for revelations.
The morning passed with activities.
A tour of the hotel.
Time at the pool.
Massages at the spa.
Of course, my parents had organized everything so that Lucia and her husband received the best treatments.
For me, there were only leftovers.
“I’m sorry, but it seems there’s no more space for the premium massage,” my mother informed me with false disappointment.
“You’ll have to settle for the basic massage.”
Later, I discovered that she had deliberately canceled my reservation for the premium treatment, claiming it would be a waste on Carmen.
During lunch, the conversation turned to a topic.
Grandfather Ernesto’s inheritance.
“I’ll never understand why Dad sold the hotel before dying,” my mother commented, looking around nostalgically.
“It was his greatest pride.”
“He certainly received an irresistible offer,” my father replied.
“Too bad we never knew who bought it.”
Lucia sighed dramatically.
“If the hotel were still ours, we could stay for free.”
“We could even give Carmen a decent room,” she added, as if she were doing me a favor.
I suppressed a smile.
If only they knew the truth about the inheritance—and the family secret I was about to discover.
That afternoon, while my parents and Lucia enjoyed a yacht tour, I slipped into my grandfather’s old office.
Now my private office.
Miguel was waiting for me with a box of documents.
“I found what you asked for, Miss Carmen,” he said, placing the box on the table.
“These are all your grandfather’s personal documents related to your family.”
I began reviewing letters, photographs, and diaries.
Among them, I found a yellowed envelope dated fifteen years ago.
It contained a letter from my mother to my grandfather that left me breathless.
“Dad, you have to understand that Carmen isn’t like us. She never was.”
“If you continue treating her as your favorite, you’ll only hurt her.”
“She doesn’t have what it takes to succeed in this family.”
“Lucia is the one who should inherit the hotel someday.”
My hands were shaking.
I continued
