was now unfolding as a result.
“Mom is selling our house,” she whispered to Blake. “It was never ours at all.”
Blake’s confusion deepened.
“What are you talking about? Of course it’s ours. We’ve been living there for two years.”
“Actually,” I said quietly, “that’s the first matter we need to clarify.”
As the Prescotts gathered around my kitchen table, I began the systematic dismantling of the carefully constructed narrative that had allowed Amber to position herself as Blake’s equal in wealth and status.
A narrative built entirely on my
