By twenty-five, I was on my own in every sense of the word.
No safety net. No backup plan. Just a small apartment that barely held together and bills that didn’t care how tired I was.
Violet helped where she could—groceries, random visits, trying to make my space feel like a home instead of a survival zone.
That’s how I met her grandfather.
Rick.
The first time I walked into his house, I felt like I had stepped into a different world.
Everything was quiet, polished, intentional. Even the air felt expensive.
I remember staring at the table settings, trying to figure out which fork I was supposed to use without embarrassing myself.
Violet leaned in and whispered, “Outside to inside.”
“I hate you,” I whispered back.
“You’d be lost without me.”
Rick heard us.
