Everything was listed there, including my dental work, private school tuition, a minor surgery when I was eleven, and even my high school prom dress. They even charged me for a crystal vase broken when I was six, even though my sister, Brielle, had been the one to knock it over while I took the blame to protect her.
“We have given this a great deal of thought, and you simply never became the return on investment we expected,” my father stated with the detached tone of a man discussing a failing stock. “Brielle knows how to utilize our family resources properly, so we are finished wasting our wealth on you.”
Brielle sat across the table looking impeccable and arrogant, wearing a smug smile as the clear favorite of the household. She reached over and snatched my car keys with insulting ease, holding them up for our cousins to see before dropping them into her glass of expensive Merlot.
“Don’t look so sad, sister,” Brielle said with a mocking laugh that rippled through the room. “I will take good care of the car, and at least this way a small part of the family investment is recovered.”