\u201cWhat I\u2019m planning,\u201d I said, sliding one last sheet from the folder, \u201cis nothing you can stop.\u201d I placed the closing paperwork on the table. It was for a modest two-bedroom house across town, purchased outright with the bonus I had earned that year\u2014the same money my family assumed would help pay for Weston\u2019s yacht.<\/p>\n
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\u201cThis is my birthday gift,\u201d I said. \u201cTo myself. I closed on it yesterday.\u201d Mom stared in disbelief while Weston leaned forward to read the paperwork. Dad\u2019s voice cracked as he asked why I had bought a house instead of helping my brother. I almost laughed. For five years, I had paid for groceries, gas, streaming services, and yacht parties while my family somehow never remembered my birthday. Then Bridget began typing on her phone, clearly preparing another post about how selfish I was. So I placed my phone on the table and pressed record. \u201cGo ahead,\u201d I said. \u201cSay it all again. Out loud. Because everything said here, I\u2019m keeping.\u201d<\/p>\n
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