My Reunion Needed a Reality Check
My family got rich off mining. Like, stupid rich.
The day I was born, Grandpa bought half a mountain to celebrate.
When I turned three, my family did that birthday thing where you pick an object. I grabbed a gold calculator.
By that night, I had my own trust fund.
In elementary school, even the principal shot to his feet whenever my parents walked into a conference.
Then, when I was ten, someone tried to kidnap me.
My parents lost it.
They moved me into a normal apartment complex, put me in cheap outlet clothes, and made me eat the cheapest stuff in the cafeteria.
Honestly? I loved it.
It was quiet. Easy.
Then came our five-year class reunion.
Dylan, my old crush, spotted me in a delivery uniform and laughed.
Then he stuck me at the servers' table.
Mandy Lawton, our class's former queen bee, gave me a fake-sweet smile.
"Oh, don't say that. For Willow, supporting herself is already a huge accomplishment."
Everyone lifted their glasses.
"Good thing Dylan rejected her. Otherwise, he'd be crammed into some tiny apartment, eating boxed mac and cheese every night."
I didn't even blink.
I was too busy staring at the document on my phone.
[Ms. Whitford, please confirm your acceptance of full ownership of Evermont Resources by 9:00 p.m. tonight.]
I sighed.
'Seriously?'
I wanted one quiet dinner.
Instead, they had to go and blow up my whole broke-girl act.