My Family Called Me The “Thrift Store Girl” For Years. As I Became A…
The $80 Million Breakthrough
Three months after the wedding, I received a call from Daniel around midnight. A prominent firm wanted to speak with us about a potential purchase.
He could scarcely speak, his voice quivering with excitement and dread. We met with their team the next week.
I handled the technical aspects and actual execution. By the end of the meeting, they were more intrigued than when we began.
I was 26 years old when I received the first serious offer: $14 million. Daniel wanted to wait, believing we could construct something larger.
Six months later, another offer came in at $22 million, then $32 million. We repeatedly said no.
We hired a CFO who was as sharp as a razor. She examined our records and declared us fools for thinking anything less than $37 million.
“You’re not just selling software. You’re selling the future of data security. Price accordingly.”
She explained. This is what we did.
The last bid arrived in February: $80 million for the entire deal. Daniel contacted me at 11 p.m., his voice trembling.
My portion would be $34 million after taxes and repaying early investors. I’d have around $8.5 million in liquid assets.
I sat on my apartment floor for an hour, staring at the wall. I was a billionaire before I reached 27, but no one in my family knew.
The Secret in the Purse
Easter was coming, and Mom called to demand that I come to supper. I normally avoid holidays, but something compelled me to agree this time.
I drove to their home in my new automobile, nothing showy, simply a dependable premium vehicle. Olivia answered the door and looked me up and down.
“Clare. You look different.”
“Thanks. You look great too.”
I said, walking inside. The house was adorned for Easter with pastels everywhere.
Dad inquired about my employment in the generic manner he normally did, not actually listening to my response. Mom admired my blouse and asked where I bought it.
“Nordstrom.”
I said. She seemed astonished.
“Splurging a bit. Did you get a raise?”
Olivia murmured from behind me.
“Something like that.”
I said.
When I returned inside from a phone call, the mood had shifted. Olivia stood in the hallway holding my purse.
“You left this on the chair. Your wallet fell out when I picked it up, things spilled everywhere.”
She explained, her voice weird. She held out a bank statement that had dropped from the folder.
The balance was obviously evident: $8.5 million plus change. The room became silent.
“Is this real?”
Olivia insisted. I took the statement from her palm, folded it neatly, and returned it to my wallet.
“It’s none of your business.”
“$8.5 million. Clare, where did you get $8.5 million?”
Mom’s voice sounded low.
“I earned it.”
I explained simply. Olivia laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound.
“You earned it doing what? You work in computers; programmers don’t make $8.5 million.”
“This one did. My company was acquired. That’s my share.”
I answered.
The $450,000 Request
The hush that ensued was deafening. I could see them all recalculating what they believed they knew about me.
The thrift store girl was a billionaire. The family disappointment possessed more wealth than any of them.
“Clare, that’s wonderful, truly. Why didn’t you tell us?”
Dad discovered his voice first.
“Because it’s my business. And because I knew this would happen.”
“What would happen?”
Mom inquired, her expression wounded.
“This. You’ve never cared about my success before. Why would I share this with you now?”
I motioned to their faces. Olivia’s horror was deteriorating into something worse.
“After everything this family has done for you.”
“Like what? Please, enlighten me. What has this family done for me?”
I interjected.
“We raised you.”
Mom explained.
“You raised both of us. You paid for Olivia’s entire college education while I worked myself into exhaustion to afford community college. You’ve celebrated every one of Olivia’s accomplishments while barely acknowledging mine. You allowed her to mock me for years, calling me thrift store girl like it was funny.”
“That was just teasing.”
Olivia explained defensively.
“It was cruel. And you all let it happen. You all participated.”
I said back. Adam, who had been quiet, now piped out.
“Clare, Olivia is just surprised. We all are. This is a lot to process, but family is family, right? And family helps each other.”
“Help each other how?”
I inquired, already knowing the answer. Olivia rushed in.
“Clare, Adam’s dealership has been struggling. The economy, supply chain issues, you know how it is. We might lose the house. We have kids to think about. You don’t have children; you don’t have a husband; you don’t have anyone depending on you. You have more money than you could ever spend.”
“So let me get this straight. You want me to just give you my money? The money I earned while you were posting selfies on Instagram? The money I made while you quit your job to play housewife? You want me to hand over what I worked for because Adam made bad business decisions?”
“It’s not like that. It’s a loan; we’d pay you back.”
Adam argued.
“No you wouldn’t. And even if you intended to, you couldn’t. If you can’t manage your own finances, why would I trust you with mine?”
I said bluntly. Mom walked closer, her expression sincere.
“Clare, honey, please. Olivia is your sister. Those are your niece and nephew. You wouldn’t let them lose their home, would you?”
“How much are you asking for?”
I inquired.
“$450,000 would cover everything. The mortgage, the debts, enough to get us back on our feet. It’s nothing to you; it’s barely 5% of what you have. But for us, it would mean everything.”
Olivia remarked.
