My daughter unexpectedly showed up at my vacation home with her new husband, saying they wanted to stay “just a few days.” That evening, she told me, “I want breakfast ready by 5 a.m. tomorrow. My husband wakes up early and likes everything his way. As the host, you’re responsible for this….
My vacation home, “The Pines,” nestled amidst the vast pine forests of Aspen, overlooks the majestic Maroon Bells. It’s my escape from the hustle and bustle of New York, where I can be Margaret—a 60-year-old woman who loves gardening and reading—rather than the “Iron Lady” of the venture capital world.
That peace was shattered on Friday afternoon.
A sleek black Range Rover roared down the gravel road, screeching to a halt in front of the cedar wood porch. Stepping out were my daughter Jessica and Brad, my new husband whom I’d only met twice via FaceTime.
“Mom!” Jessica rushed to hug me, her overpowering Chanel perfume overpowering the fresh scent of pine. “I missed you so much! We decided to surprise you. We needed some space to… rekindle our romance.”
Brad followed, wearing his aviator sunglasses despite the approaching afternoon. He looked at my house—an 8,000-square-foot architectural masterpiece—not with the eyes of an appraiser, but of a condescending judge.
“Hello, Mrs. Margaret,” Brad said, his voice condescending. He didn’t take off his glasses, shaking my hand perfunctorily. “The house is nice. But that porch needs fixing; it looks a bit old-fashioned.”
I gave a polite smile. “Welcome, dears. I thought you were on your honeymoon in Bali?”
“Changed plans,” Brad interrupted, walking straight into the house without an invitation, his muddy shoes treading on the Persian rug. “I have an important meeting tomorrow morning via Zoom. The time zone in Bali isn’t suitable. It’s more convenient here.”
He treated my house like a stopover, a free hotel. But for Jessica’s sake, I held back. She looked thinner and seemed… afraid of Brad. She always checked her husband’s expression before saying anything.
Chapter 2: Dinner of Arrogance
That dinner was tense. I had prepared beef stew with wine, Jessica’s favorite dish from her childhood.
But Brad just poked the meat with his fork and pushed it away.
“The meat is a bit tough,” he remarked, his eyes still glued to his phone. “And this wine is 2018 Merlot? A bit young. Next time you should buy Napa Cabernet Sauvignon.”
“Brad is under a lot of pressure, Mom,” Jessica quickly interjected, placing her hand on her husband’s to soothe him. “He’s about to be promoted to Executive Vice President of Sterling Group. That’s a huge step forward.”
“Sterling?” I raised an eyebrow. “It’s a good company.”
“Good?” Brad scoffed. “That’s the Wall Street monster, Margaret. And I’m the only one capable of handling it in the upcoming merger with OmniCorp. Those old geezers on the board know nothing about the speed of the new world. Tomorrow, I’ll show them who’s in control.”
He rambled on about himself for an hour. About how smart he was, how ruthless he was in business. He treated me like a retired old lady, living on pensions or her husband’s inheritance, completely clueless about the “fierce world of business.”
After dinner, as I was clearing the dishes (since neither of them offered to help), Jessica walked into the kitchen.
I expected her to apologize for her husband’s behavior. But no.
“Mom,” Jessica said, her voice strangely firm, glancing towards the living room to see if Brad had heard. “Brad’s right. He needs maximum focus for tomorrow morning’s meeting. It’s our chance to change our lives.”
“So what?” I asked, still washing dishes.
“Don’t watch TV too loudly tonight, Mom,” Jessica continued. Then, she blurted out something that stunned me: “I want breakfast ready by 5 a.m. tomorrow. My husband wakes up early and likes everything his way. Eggs Benedict, French press black coffee, and freshly squeezed orange juice. As the hostess, you’re responsible for this.”
I put down my plate and turned to look at my daughter.
“The hostess?” I repeated. “Do you think I’m your Airbnb hostess?”
“Don’t make things difficult for me!” Jessica snapped, but I saw panic in her eyes. “Brad is very picky. If the morning doesn’t go well, he’ll get angry, and the meeting will be ruined. Mom, please. What do you have to do? You just stay home.”
She looked at me like an unpaid maid. Maternal love was overshadowed by greed and blind obedience.
I looked deep into my daughter’s eyes. I realized Jessica not only loved Brad, she was being manipulated by him. She thought that to keep this “successful” man, she had to cater to him and force everyone around her to do the same.
“Okay,” I said, my voice calm to the point of coldness. “5 a.m. Breakfast will be ready.”
Jessica breathed a sigh of relief, turned her back, and walked straight away. She didn’t know that, when she called me “landlord” in that tone, she had awakened another person in me.
Chapter 3: 5 a.m.
4:45 a.m.
I woke up. Not in my messy pajamas. I wore a custom-made navy blue silk suit from Milan, my hair neatly combed, a Mikimoto pearl necklace, and a Cartier Tank watch on my left wrist.
I went down to the kitchen. I didn’t make Eggs Benedict. I didn’t squeeze any oranges either.
I brewed a pot of Earl Grey tea for myself, opened my iPad, and sat at the head of the table.
I sat sprawled out in the living room, which offered a direct view of the snow-capped mountains shrouded in early morning mist.
At exactly 5 a.m., Brad came down the stairs. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, a red tie, and a phone in his hand, his face radiating the energy of someone about to conquer the world.
He walked into the dining room and saw me sitting there.
“Where’s breakfast?” he asked curtly, glancing around the empty table. “Jessica said she’d prepare it…”
Then he noticed my attire. He paused for a moment.
“Where did she go? So early?”
“Sit down, Brad,” I pointed to the chair opposite – the guest seat. “Your breakfast today will be a treat for the mind.”
“Is she crazy?” Brad frowned, looking at his watch. “I don’t have time for old-fashioned trivia. I have to be on Zoom at 5:30. I need coffee! Where’s Jessica?”
“Jessica’s still asleep,” I said, taking a sip of tea. “And you won’t need coffee. Because your meeting… will probably be right here.”
Brad scoffed, a contemptuous laugh. “Here? Who do you think you are? I’m meeting with Sterling’s board of directors and senior OmniCorp partners. Do you think they’d fly to this remote corner of the woods to meet with a retired old lady?”
He pulled out his phone, intending to call Jessica to scold her.
“Sterling and OmniCorp,” I mumbled. “The $2 billion merger. The ‘Phoenix’ project. You’re going to present a 30% layoff to optimize profits, right?”
Brad’s hand froze in mid-air. He slowly turned his head to look at me, his eyes wide. “How… how did you know the project name? That’s top-secret information.”
I smiled. A smile my Wall Street rivals would call “The Black Widow’s Kiss.”
I turned the iPad towards him.
On the screen was the Zoom interface waiting to connect. The host’s name wasn’t Sterling’s CEO, nor OmniCorp’s CEO.
The name displayed was: M. Vance – Chairman of the Board of OmniCorp.
Chapter 4: A Bitter Breakfast
“Vance?” Brad stammered, his face turning pale. “Margaret… Vance? But… but Jessica’s last name is Miller…”
“Miller is my late husband’s last name,” I explained slowly. “And Vance is my maiden name. And OmniCorp… is the corporation my family built back in the 1950s. I own 51% of the voting shares.”
Brad recoiled, bumping into the edge of the table. He looked at me as if he’d seen a ghost. He’d spent the whole evening criticizing my wine, criticizing my house, and worst of all, turning my daughter into his servant to serve his ambitions for advancement within my own company.
“No… it can’t be…” Brad trembled. “Jessica never said…”
“Jessica doesn’t know,” I said. “She doesn’t care about business. She only knows her mother has money, but she never asks where it comes from. And I like to keep that a secret to protect her from gold diggers. But it seems… I’ve failed.”
Ting.
The meeting notification sound began to play from the iPad. Video squares started to appear.
“Good morning, Mrs. Vance,” CEO Sterling’s voice rang out respectfully through the speakerphone. “We are honored that you are personally attending this morning’s meeting.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Vance,” the other board members bowed in turn.
I looked at Brad. He stood frozen, sweat pouring down his forehead, his red tie now looking like a noose tightening around his neck.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said into the iPad’s microphone, my eyes still fixed on my son-in-law. “Today we have a very special guest at my home. Mr. Brad… excuse me, what is your last name?”
“Brad… Brad Jenkins,” CEO Sterling said, his voice slightly surprised. “He’s the strong candidate for the Vice President position we proposed to you. Is he there?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “He was here last night and gave a very impressive performance of ‘management skills’ and ‘people skills’.”
Brad shook his head vigorously, his lips moving to utter “Please, Mom,” his hands clasped in supplication. He knew that if I said one word, his career would be ruined.
I was silent for five seconds. The longest five seconds of Brad’s life.
“However,” I continued, my voice sharp. “After careful observation, I’ve found that Mr. Jenkins has a serious problem with his perception of position. He confuses confidence with arrogance. He treats the ‘host’—the one who holds the resources—like a servant. A person who doesn’t respect the person who provided him with ‘breakfast’ doesn’t deserve to sit at the OmniCorp table.”
“Ms. Vance, you mean…?” CEO Sterling hesitated.
“I veto Brad Jenkins’ appointment,” I declared coldly. “Furthermore, I suggest reviewing his employment status at Sterling before the merger. I don’t want this toxic culture spreading to my company.”
“Understood, ma’am. We will address this immediately,” the Sterling CEO replied curtly. In this world, the word of the 51% shareholder is sacred.
I turned off my iPad. The screen went black.
Chapter 5: The Price
Brad collapsed onto the oak floor. He was no longer the arrogant man he once was.
He was completely lifeless last night. He was a soulless corpse. His career, fame, money… everything vanished because of one attitude, and a 5 o’clock breakfast.
Just then, Jessica rushed down the stairs, still in her pajamas, her hair disheveled.
“Brad? How are you? Is the meeting over? Mom… has Mom prepared breakfast?”
She saw Brad kneeling on the floor, and me sitting at the head of the table in my powerful suit, with no food on the table.
“What happened?” Jessica exclaimed in alarm.
I stood up and walked closer to my daughter.
“I’ve fulfilled my responsibilities as the hostess, Jessica,” I said softly. “I’ve cleaned the ‘garbage’ out of this house, and out of your life.”
“Garbage?” Jessica looked bewildered.
Brad looked up, his eyes bloodshot, staring at Jessica. He was about to vent his anger on her. “You… why didn’t you tell me who your mother was? You’ve ruined me! You idiot!”
Jessica recoiled, shocked by her husband’s brutality.
“Brad, what are you saying? My mother is just…”
“Your mother is the President of OmniCorp! The corporation where I just got fired!” Brad yelled.
Jessica turned to me, her mouth agape.
I placed my hand on my daughter’s shoulder. “Honey, you said you wanted breakfast ready by 5 a.m. because your husband likes everything his way. I made it. This morning’s breakfast is: Truth. A little hard to swallow, but very healthy.”
I turned to Brad.
“You have 15 minutes to pack your things and get out of my house. Don’t make me call resort security. And remember to take your arrogance with you.”
Brad scrambled to his feet and trudged upstairs. He knew he had no way out.
Jessica stood there, tears streaming down her face. But in her eyes, I saw a glimmer of realization. She looked at the utterly defeated man and realized he was nothing more than a bully masquerading as a businessman.
“Mom…” Jessica whispered.
“I’m here,” I hugged my daughter. “I’m sorry for hiding it from you. But I think now is the time for you to learn to take control of your own life, not serve anyone. Starting with breakfast.”
Outside the window, the sun began to rise over Maroon Bells, painting the sky pink. A new day had begun, and this time, order had been restored.
