The suitcase hit the frozen driveway so hard the brass latch burst open, scattering my sweaters across the snow like even they had given up on me.

I crouched in the freezing dark, fingers numb as I gathered my things, while my mother stood on the porch of the Connecticut estate I had spent five years paying to keep alive. She pulled her cashmere shawl tighter around her shoulders, as if the cold was the only thing in that moment worth pitying.

“It’s just business, Olivia,” she said, her voice calm and empty. “Harrison and Naomi need the guest house. Their real estate fund is growing, and they need a temporary office. You can’t expect to live in our backyard forever. You’re thirty-three. It’s time you stood on your own.”

“Live in your backyard?” I repeated. “I’ve paid the property taxes on this entire estate for five years. I paid for the roof repairs last spring. I cover the utilities. You and Dad have been living off my money while pretending to be country club royalty.”