“I want to thank everyone for celebrating our precious Maya tonight,” my mother announced, her voice echoing clearly through the microphone. “Of course, every family has its black sheep. My oldest daughter, Clara, sitting right back there, is a textbook, worthless failure who can’t even afford rent or hold down a decent job. We stopped paying for her life years ago, and frankly, we’re just glad she managed to scrape together enough gas money to sit quietly in the back and watch how a real woman gets married.”
A wave of amusement moved through the room.
Two hundred wealthy guests laughed openly, twisting in their chairs to stare at me.
Heat rushed up my neck.
Across the head table, Dad lifted a hand to cover his mouth, trying—and failing—to hide a loud, ugly chuckle.
My hands trembled.
I looked down at my lap as tears burned behind my eyes.
