“You’re not good enough to work here. You lack the experience.”

Jason’s voice was clipped, businesslike—like we weren’t sitting three feet apart at his dining room table last Sunday, pretending to be family.

It would’ve been laughable, if it wasn’t so familiar. I graduated top of my class from an Ivy League. But sure. Not enough.

I looked up, letting my gaze settle on him. I don’t know what I expected—he was my mother’s newest accessory.

And my mother? Well, she never missed a chance to remind me I was a disappointment.

Jason kept talking, his mouth moving like a puppet show on mute.

I didn’t hear him. I only...