My mother set down her coffee and told me I wasn’t invited to my own brother’s wedding—the wedding he planned to celebrate at the $770,000 house I had bought and allowed him to live in. When I stared at Dalton, waiting for him to say she was joking, he laughed instead. “It’s only for the closest family, Sierra.” I drove home without arguing, opened my laptop, and called the one person who could make my answer permanent.
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