Uncle James Smiled at Me and Asked About My $1.5 Million House — By the Time Dessert Was Served, My Family Finally Understood Who I Really Was

Uncle James blinked, genuinely surprised. “The Craftsman on Sterling Heights,” he said easily. “Sophia bought it years ago. Beautiful place. I stayed in the guest suite last time I was in town. Best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

Brooke turned toward me, her expression sharp and incredulous. “That’s not funny,” she snapped. “Sophia rents. She’s always rented. That sad little apartment near campus with the beige carpet.”

I took a slow sip of my wine, letting the moment stretch just a little longer than politeness required, then set the glass down carefully.

“I rented that apartment during my PhD,” I said calmly. “For two years. I bought the house on Sterling Heights eight years ago.”

The silence thickened.

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