Chapter 2

"Enough arguing! The dealership needs proof of funds and full payment this afternoon. Give me your valuables!"

When I didn't move, Brielle pulled a spare key from her pocket and forced open the lock on my wardrobe.

I lunged forward. "Brielle, that's theft!"

"So what if it is? You grew up eating our food and living under our roof. The second we ask you to contribute, you act like we're killing you!"

Mom grabbed my arm and yanked me away. I lost my balance and fell against the couch.

Brielle overturned my backpack onto the bed.

Two solid-gold necklaces. A Cartier bracelet. Three hundred dollars in cash I'd set aside for a professional training course.

She swept everything into a cloth drawstring pouch.

"What an embarrassment," Dad said, getting to his feet. He sighed at me as though I were a particularly stubborn child. "Money comes and goes, Tessa. You obsess over the smallest things. Once your sister makes it big, do you really think she'll forget what you've done for her?"

Brielle tied the pouch shut and linked arms with Mom.

"Come on. We need to get in line downstairs. The monthly limit resets at midnight, and I want something amazing."

The door slammed behind them.

The apartment went silent.

I pushed myself off the couch and approached the window. The lobby was brightly lit, and a moment later Brielle's delighted scream floated up from below.

Soon afterward, she posted pictures on social media: a vehicle collection slip and a cashier's check.

Her caption read, "So grateful for my loving family and this incredible blessing!"

Three days after picking up her new car, Brielle shattered the peace of breakfast by slamming her glass onto the table.

"Who cares about a forty-five-thousand-dollar 3 Series? The Daltons' daughter got a luxury condo for three gold bangles!"

I emerged from the kitchen carrying a bowl of plain oatmeal. On the dining table, four plates of truffle eggs and seared steak waited for the others.

Mom was carefully peeling shrimp for Owen.

"Exactly," she said without looking up. "A car like that isn't much to brag about. Owen's graduating soon. We can't have him showing up for job interviews in some ordinary BMW. Imagine the humiliation."

Owen lounged with his feet on the coffee table. He crumpled his tran and threw it on the floor.

"I failed six classes, and the university says I can't graduate. I don't care! Next month's wish belongs to me."

He sat up, eyes shining.

"I want to be a director at a major tech company. Two hundred thousand a year, at least. Hundreds of people reporting to me."

I took another spoonful of oatmeal to hide my bitter smile.

A director at a major tech company?

Owen had failed basic calculus three times and couldn't understand a beginner's line of code. What exactly was he going to direct?

Dad folded his newspaper.

"Tessa," he began, "I heard you received an offer yesterday from Corvane Systems. Senior director of systems architecture. A two-hundred-thousand-dollar base salary, plus stock options. Is that right?"

My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth.

That offer had cost me three months of sleepless nights redesigning a system architecture, followed by five grueling technical interviews.

I had earned every line of it.

Brielle slid into the chair opposite me, smiling sweetly.

"You saw the new announcement about the Wish Box, didn't you? If you want a permanent executive position and real wealth, you have to offer something valuable from your future."

She leaned closer.

"Owen is the only son. He's the one who'll carry on our family name. Meanwhile, you're a woman working yourself sick in tech. You'll lose your hair and scare off every decent man who might marry you."