Returning Early
I cut my European business trip short by three days, eager to surprise my wife, Claire, for Christmas. The house glowed with holiday lights, snow dusted the lawn, and laughter drifted from the living room. I imagined hot cocoa and Claire’s excited embrace.
Instead, I walked into a conspiracy that threatened to destroy our family.
Who I Am
I’m Michael Anderson, 62 years old, owner of a boutique hotel chain in the Florida Keys. Seven properties, from twenty-room inns to a flagship resort with 200 suites, worth about forty million dollars—all built from nothing over thirty years.
Claire has been my partner from day one. She cleaned rooms when we couldn’t afford staff, manned the reception desk, and believed in dreams everyone else called impossible.
Success, I was about to learn, had made us targets in our own family.
The Son I Thought I Knew
Our son Stephen, 32, is an architect with a prestigious Cornell degree—but little work ethic. Comfort had made him soft in ways I hadn’t noticed.
He married Amanda, 30, from old New York money, bringing entitlement and parents who treated Florida as a vacation spot. Since their wedding, Stephen had grown distant—short visits, rushed calls, constant excuses.
I had been sending him $5,000 monthly. Claire worried we were enabling him, but I dismissed her concerns. I believed in supporting my son.
I was about to learn the consequences of that support.