At the restaurant, my mother looked at me and said, “Sit somewhere else. This table is for real family—not adopted daughters.” Everyone laughed before pushing the $3,418 check toward me. I quietly smiled and paid it in full. But just as I stood to leave, someone behind me said, “Please wait a moment.”

“With what?” I asked quietly.

The question broke something in him.

“You think you are better than us because Grandma handed you everything,” he said.

“She handed me responsibility,” I replied. “You were given support. You decided it meant you were entitled to more.”

Allison stepped backward from the table. Her face had gone pale as she looked through the financial report.

“My studio payment came from that credit line?” she asked.

Grant looked away.

“So did the deposit for Mom’s birthday party,” Victoria said.

The room turned toward Lorraine.

She stared at the flowers, the cake, the wine, and the bill I had paid only minutes earlier. The celebration she had used to humiliate me had been partially funded by money Grant borrowed under my protection.

My father finally rose.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked his son.

Grant laughed bitterly. “Because you would have chosen Paige again.”