“Olivia, don’t take so much food. You didn’t contribute a cent to this celebration. Let the people who actually belong here eat first.”
My mother’s voice carried across the elegant dining room, loud m enough for nearly sixty guests to hear.
I stood beside the buffet wearing a deep red evening dress, holding a white dinner plate with a single spoonful of mashed potatoes.
That was all I had taken.
One spoonful.
Conversations stopped almost immediately. Someone awkwardly set down a glass. A few guests exchanged uncomfortable looks, while the musicians near the fireplace continued playing, unaware of what had just happened.
My older sister, Camille, stood a few places ahead of me.
Her plate was overflowing with roast beef, shrimp, and expensive appetizers. She glanced at my almost empty plate, then smiled with the familiar satisfaction she always wore when our mother publicly favored her.
“Mom’s right, Liv. Family should
