Outside the family law office, my father, Richard Wyler, shoved my duffel bag into my arms.He pulled out his phone and checked the lottery drawing date yet again before waving me away.“Don’t call unless it’s important. I have a big family to take care of. I’m busy enough as it is.”His mind was entirely on the lottery ticket that could soon make him a multimillionaire. He could not wait to rid himself of the burden I represented.Without saying anything, I walked toward the Maybach parked at the curb with my bags. My mother, Mona Brown, frowned when she saw my worn, shabby clothes.The rear window rolled down.My stepsister, Audrey Brown, covered her nose in disgust and said, “Mona, is this your daughter from the bad part of town? Why do her clothes stink?”My stepbrother, Derek Brown, turned from the front passenger seat and gave me a cool, appraising glance.He said nothing, but the contempt in his eyes was plain.Mom stood awkwardly beside the car, visibly embarrassed.
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