sia

stigious art school on the East Coast. Dreams of galleries

devoured it all. My college fund was siphoned off for her "speciali

il had landed in my inbox a few hours after my acceptance. A car would pic

rmal dining room glowed with candlelight, a feast spra

ra's "re

vely in a silk dress. My mother fussed over her, my fathe

ghost at t

finally looked up, his eyes dark

rder, not a

ground b

ed weakly. "Dante, darling, could you peel a

before it was smoothed away. He picked up a grape, his large, capable hands-hands that had built a cri

me snapped. Qui

ed to

the Spanish word for ungrateful s

y father added, his tone dripping

oken. But prison hadn't broken me; it had been my university. I'd learned to survive. To listen. And to navigate

d every ven

storage room. I walked straight through the grand foyer, past t

ng, down the long, manicured driveway, until th

prison-issue shoes hit the pub

my bi

d forgotten. Another piec

leaving. I was