"You’re just the pampered daughter of a small factory — stop acting spoiled. Are potatoes too good for you?"
I was shocked — after years of business cooperation, he had no idea about the Lane Corporation’s true power or my real identity?
But for Grandpa’s sake, I stayed silent.
As more people gathered to watch, I gently tugged his sleeve.
"People are staring. Calm down."
Maybe that worked, because he finally stopped eating.
But he kept grumbling.
"A woman who doesn’t know thrift will never run a household. What was Aunt May thinking introducing me to such a crazy girl?"
I heard it but stayed quiet.
We finally boarded the plane, but once inside, Jason started again — gawking and pointing everywhere.
"Wow, so this is what a plane looks like! Are these leather seats? Doesn’t look like it! My house furniture is nicer!"
His loud voice drew more stares. I wanted to disappear.
"Hey, why do you look so experienced? Been on a plane before? How can your family’s little factory afford this?"
I forced a tight smile.
"Jason, it’s the 21st century. Flying isn’t expensive — normal people can afford it."
That was like poking a hornet’s nest.
"Not expensive? Do you know how many people go hungry in the world? Do you know how many potatoes this ticket could buy? Enough to feed a family for a month!"
He was full of self-righteous anger.
I’d had enough and pulled out my phone to complain to Grandpa about this living disaster.
I had just typed “Grandpa, the man you introduced me to—” when Jason leaned over, snatched my phone, and sneered at my contact list.
"Is that Robert Lane’s profile picture? You claim to know Robert Lane? Stop pretending — you think name-dropping will get my family to raise your engagement gifts?"
I clenched my jaw and said as calmly as I could:
"Didn’t Aunt May tell you about me? Not even my last name?"
Jason crossed one leg over the other, looking smug.
"She said you were from Portland. Who cares enough to ask more? Me? I’m a real Seattle native — do you know how valuable a Seattle household registration is? People would kill for it!"
He then launched into bragging about his family’s glorious history, their tiny house that he claimed was worth a fortune, and how many machines his mom’s factory had — which, to me, sounded pathetically small.
Just then, the flight attendant brought us two airplane meals.
Jason’s eyes went wide.
"There’s food? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?"