My family had no idea I was a multimillionaire defense contractor. They uninvited me from the family trip to Aspen, texting, ‘We gave your first-class seat to the dog. You ruin the aesthetic.’ I simply replied, ‘Enjoy.’ I flew my private jet to my $15 million estate on the same mountain and invited the relatives they rejected. When my mother saw the live feed of our party, she called the police—but they came for her.

Chapter 1: The Discard

Do not board. We told the senator’s family you are in rehab. Your presence ruins the aesthetic. We gave your first-class seat to the dog.

My mother’s text hit my phone like a physical slap, the vibration buzzing against my palm as I stood in the middle of Terminal 4. I stared at the screen, the words blurring slightly under the harsh fluorescent lights of the airport. I didn’t even have time to blink before the second notification popped up, slicing through the shock.

It was my sister, Brittany, posting live from seat 1A. The seat I had paid for.

The photo was a masterpiece of curated cruelty. She was holding her French bulldog, Pierre, who was wearing a cashmere sweater that probably cost more than my first car. He was pouting for the camera, oblivious to the fact that he was sitting in a seat meant for a human being—me. The caption read: Finally got rid of the bad energy. #FamilyCleanse #AspenBound.