My Parents Called Me A Dropout. “Look At Your Sister.” I Secretly Built…

The Family Disappointment

My parents called me a dropout. Look at your sister.

I secretly built an $83 million tech firm while she wore a $20,000 gown. They are begging now.

For 26 years, I was the family’s disappointment. The dropout, the sister who worked in customer service, and the one who couldn’t finish anything.

Meanwhile, my older sister, Sophia Bennett, rose to the position of corporate executive at a pharmaceutical firm. My name is Rachel Taylor.

Sophia fulfilled all of my parents’ desires: director of operations at MedTech Solutions with an MBA from Northwestern, making $220,000 a year. Nathaniel Grant III, whose family managed a network of private hospitals throughout Texas, is engaged to her.

Mom shared pictures of their penthouse in downtown Dallas to almost everyone she encountered. Mom characterized my 800-foot flat in Deep Ellum as Rachel’s bohemian phase.

“At her age, that’s alarming,” she said.

After two years, I left college, unable to manage the workload. With a voice full of disappointment, Dad told people they never asked for the more nuanced truth.

Every meeting formed the family structure. At medical conferences, Sophia would talk about her most recent product launch, team management techniques, and networking.

Nathaniel would discuss their relationships with state lawmakers, their yacht club, and the Grant Family Foundation. Me, Mom would quickly switch the topic when I brought up my job.

“That’s nice. Tell everyone about your award, Sophia, please,” Mom said.

The conversation stopper was usually the award. One up-and-coming pharmaceutical operations star from an industry journal was Sophia’s.

Three copies had been framed and placed in conspicuous places: her office, her penthouse, and the living room of her parents’ home. There weren’t any pictures of myself anywhere in my parents’ house.

In the guest room, they were all in a drawer. Once, while searching for extra blankets, I had discovered them.

The Wedding of the Century

Planning for the wedding began 18 months prior to the big day. Sophia desired excellence.

A ceremony at the Rosewood mansion worth $350,000, 300 guests, a celebrity wedding planner, and fancy clothing. The Grants were making a $200,000 contribution.

To cover the remaining costs, Mom and Dad mortgaged their home.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime event,” Mom added with a gleam in her eyes.

I was originally meant to be a bridesmaid.

“Sophia deserves the wedding of her dreams,” she said.

Then, when Sophia chose to invite just her pharmaceutical colleagues to the wedding celebration for the optics, I was demoted to regular guest. Then I received the text three weeks prior to the wedding.

My phone buzzed as I was in my apartment looking over my laptop’s quarterly financials.

“We need to discuss the wedding Rachel Nathaniel’s parents have been inquiring about our family and are quite image conscious I believe it would be better if you didn’t go You would feel more at ease anyhow I hope you understand Bella These aren’t your kind of people” the message read.

I looked at the message for a long time. Go over it three times.

Allow the words to become as ingrained as stones and water. I was not invited to my own sister’s wedding.

I responded by typing.

“Understood” I sent.

That was all. Only that one word.

My phone rang right away.

“Sophia, Rachel, please don’t be dramatic about this,” she said.

“I’m not being dramatic. You asked me not to come. I’m not coming,” I replied.

“The Grants have ties to everyone in Dallas, so it’s complicated. Nathaniel’s mother is on the board of the Dallas Museum of Art, and his father plays golf with the Lieutenant Governor. They have certain expectations about my job, appearance, success, and presentation,” she explained.

“You work in customer service, live in Deep Ellum, and drive a Honda Fit. Nathaniel’s uncle runs a private equity firm, and his cousin is a state senator. Can you see how this could be awkward?” she continued.

“Perfectly clear,” I said.

“Don’t be like that. We’ll have a family meal once everything has calmed down after the wedding. Only us,” she promised.

I hung up and sat in the quiet of my apartment, looking around at my simple furniture, my tiny kitchen, and my one bathroom, which Sophia had once described as aggressively small.

“Sure, Bella. Enjoy your wedding,” I thought.

The Secret of Client Flow

Next, I launched my laptop and retrieved the Austin Governor’s Business Awards calendar. It was set for April 15th, the same evening as Sophia’s wedding.

I had intended to go to the wedding instead of the awards ceremony. No more.

This is what my family was unaware of. What, in the four years after I dropped out, none of them had bothered to inquire about.

I didn’t quit because the task was too much for me. Because I had created something that couldn’t wait, I left.

I had observed something during my sophomore year at UT Austin. Every small business I spoke with, including eateries, shops, and service providers, had the same issue.

Enterprise-level CRM software was out of their price range. The low-cost selections were awful.

Good alternatives range from $45,000 to $190,000 per year. In the interim, I constructed something.

I learned how to code on my own. For eight months, I worked nightly to create a CRM software tailored to small enterprises.

Depending on the functionalities, the cloud-based user interface costs between $89 and $279 each month. A little firm had everything they needed and nothing they didn’t.

Client Flow is what I named it. In 2020, I left to operate it full-time.

My parents believed that I was wasting my life. They were unaware that I had already signed my first 50 clients and was making $7,500 a month from recurring business.

Client Flow has 800 customers and was making $170,000 a month by 2021. It had 3,200 customers and $600,000 per month by 2022.

By 2023, we had 8,200 clients nationwide and were making $1.8 million a month, or $21.5 million a year.

I led a team of 24 employees, including a CFO with prior Oracle experience, a head of sales with three successful companies under their belt, and a customer success team of 12 who handled onboarding and support tickets.

In January 2024, my company’s Series B funding round was valued at $83 million. But as Sophia wore her expensive outfits, I continued to show up to family meals in jeans and t-shirts, kept my Deep Ellum apartment, and kept my Honda Fit.

On most days, I worked from home. And when my family asked what I did for a living, I replied that I worked in customer service, which was technically correct.

In addition to serving customers, I was the business’s owner. I needed to know if they would still love me if I didn’t succeed.

So I let them believe what they wanted to believe. For being Rachel alone, would they value me?

The solution had always been clear. However, Sophia’s text made it quite evident.

The Governor’s Awards

The Texas Governor’s Business Awards were a major event that began 15 years ago with the goal of honoring young business people in the state who were fostering innovation and generating jobs.

The under 30 division was especially esteemed. Out of hundreds of nominations, only five winners are chosen each year.

One of my investors, a venture capitalist who had the governor’s personal cell phone and served on three company boards, had suggested me.

I had originally intended to remain silent, go to the ceremony, take the prize, and then let it fade into the background when I won. However, things had changed.

Tell me where you’re watching from tonight in a comment.

The Four Seasons in Austin hosted the awards presentation on several platforms. Attendees of the Black Tie 500 were livestreamed.

Forbes reported about it. There was a full team from the Austin Business Journal.

All of Texas’s top tech CEOs would be there. I paid $7,500 for a custom Alexander McQueen outfit in midnight blue.

Not just any dress. The same crew that worked on Austin Fashion Week’s hair and makeup.

Shoes that are more expensive than my rent each month. The night of the ceremony, I hardly recognized myself when I glanced in the mirror.

Ethan Harris, the CEO of a semiconductor business that recently went public for $2.9 billion, was my date for the evening. We had remained friends after meeting at a founders’ conference in San Francisco.

“Family who dismisses you doesn’t deserve you,” he had remarked plainly when I had told him about my sister’s predicament.

He had volunteered to go with me right away.

“Let’s make sure your success is impossible to ignore,” he said.

Governor Lisa Harper offered the opening remarks. The ceremony began at 7:00 p.m. precisely—the same time as Sophia’s wedding ceremony at the Rosewood mansion 200 miles north in Dallas.

The Under 30 awards were the main event of the evening, and Governor Harper returned to the podium after the winners were announced in reverse order from fifth place to first place, with increasing fanfare for each.

The room was packed with powerful people, including CEOs, investors, politicians, and journalists. I sat at a front table with Ethan, my CFO James, and two of my early investors.

“The final under 30 award winner exemplifies the kind of innovation Texas needs,” she said.

“She has created 24 well-paying positions in Austin, a firm that services over 8,200 small businesses across America, generates over $21.5 million in revenue yearly, and is valued at $83 million in just four years,” she continued.

The enormous screens on either side of the stage displayed images of Client Flow, including screenshots of our platform, client endorsements, and graphs demonstrating our rapid expansion.

“She is a first generation college student who dropped out to follow her dream, taught herself to code, and at just 26 years old, she has disrupted an industry dominated by giants,” Governor Harper stated.

The room was silent, hanging on every word. I stood.