Robert and Catherine Bellmont, respected, affluent, connected. My father had inherited real estate holdings and then expanded the family fortune through a highly successful corporate law practice specializing in mergers and acquisitions. My mother belonged to the world in the way only certain wealthy women do—not through visible employment, but through boards, fundraisers, charity galas, lunch committees, and those invisible webs of social influence that determine who matters and who gets invited to what.
My brother Marcus was the firstborn son and future success story. My younger sister Olivia was the beautiful late-arriving baby whose smallest preferences somehow acquired the emotional significance of legislation.
And I was the middle child.
The phrase itself always sounds softer than the experience.
Middle child.
Like a personality type. Like a harmless family joke. Like a seat assignment.