My father threw me out on my eighteenth birthday, stole the $3,000 I’d saved from working after school, and used it for my stepbrother. Nine days later, while I was digging through a restaurant dumpster for something to eat, a stranger in an expensive suit called my name and told me my supposedly dead grandfather had left me everything. But there was one condition nobody had warned me about.

“No.”

I traced a finger along the rim of my bowl.

“I keep thinking about the three thousand dollars he took from me. Maybe that was part of the trust.”

“Maybe.”

“And Tyler?”

“Your stepbrother?”

“He said the money was for Tyler’s applications.”

Eleanor’s expression softened.

“Did Tyler know where it came from?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then don’t place him inside your father’s choices until you do.”

I thought of Tyler sitting at the kitchen table, looking embarrassed while Dad explained that I was no longer welcome. Tyler had not stopped me. But he had also not looked pleased.

“I don’t want to become like them,” I said.

“Like whom?”

“People who decide what others deserve without asking what they know.”

Eleanor leaned back.

“Then ask questions before you decide.”

The next morning, Richard arrived shortly after nine.

He carried a slim black case and wore the same careful expression as before, but his eyes looked tired.