But I persevered. While Cassandra posted perfect family vacation photos, I pulled all-nighters coding and studying. I graduated at the top of my class. Mom came to my high school graduation but left early because Cassandra called—Thomas had a mild fever. I didn’t complain. I accepted that this was my reality and promised myself I would build success on my own terms. I didn’t need their approval.

What I didn’t expect was how dramatically everything would change on my eighteenth birthday. That night defined everything that followed and led directly to the confrontation fourteen years later.

My eighteenth birthday was a Tuesday. I remember because I’d actually managed to get the evening off—a rare treat. I didn’t expect a celebration; Cassandra and Eric were expecting their third, and all the attention was on them. Still, turning eighteen felt significant. I was legally an adult, finishing high school, and had partial scholarships to three universities.

I got home from my tutoring job to find Mom and Cassandra at the kitchen table, buried in spreadsheets. They barely looked up.