Growing up in a mansion with twenty-two rooms, I quickly learned that affection wasn’t free—it had a devastating price tag. My twin brother, Mason, was the golden child, draped in luxury and handed the keys to the kingdom, while I was relegated to the shadows, cast aside like forgotten furniture. My father, Richard, made it painfully clear which of us he chose to love, and for nineteen years, I endured his silent contempt while pouring coffee at a local diner just to survive. But when my grandfather passed away, the attorney handed us an envelope that finally exposed the sickening truth.
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