My sister Sophia started coming around more often, too.
She would show up at our house in Lincoln Park unannounced, always when I was at work.
Marcus would tell me later, “Oh, Sophia stopped by. We just talked about family stuff.”
Sophia had always been jealous of my success.
Growing up in our small apartment on the South Side of Chicago, she would get angry whenever I got good grades or won awards at school.
“Why does Victoria get everything?” she would complain to our parents.
When I started my first hotel, Sophia made mean comments about how I was showing off and thinking I was better than everyone.
But I thought she had gotten over that jealousy.
She was 26 now, old enough to be happy for her sister’s success.
I was wrong.
One evening, I came home early from a meeting in downtown Chicago and found Marcus and Sophia sitting very close together on our couch.
