Their laughter evaporated.
My father’s grin stalled. Brooke blinked rapidly. Donna’s smile became brittle.
“So you did something,” she said brightly.
I stayed calm. “Yes.”
“How long?” Rick demanded.
“Eight months.”
“And you didn’t tell us?” Donna pressed.
“You stopped being my support the day you tried to trade my education for Brooke’s apartment,” I replied.
Brooke rolled her eyes. “You’re still hung up on that?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
Employees streamed in and out behind me, security guards alert. This was not our kitchen table anymore.
Rick lowered his voice. “We’re here because Brooke has an apartment showing nearby. Since you’re doing well… you can help.”
There it was.
Not pride. Not reconciliation.
Extraction.
“You laughed when I left,” I said evenly. “You told me to quit school.”
Donna’s eyes flashed. “You were selfish.”
“I was protecting myself.”
Rick snapped, “You owe us.”
“No,” I said. “You taught me what I’m worth.”
Donna’s tone shifted again. “So what do you make now?”
“Enough,” I answered.
“Enough to help your sister,” Brooke insisted.
“Enough to build my own life,” I corrected.
Donna’s voice rose. “Without us?”
“Yes.”
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