It was heartbreaking to witness how grief, denial, and a blinding faith in the appeal of social status had warped my mother’s judgment. She somehow clung to the hope that I’d drop the topic at hand in exchange for a spot at a prestigious university, in addition to the other perks she and my father would undoubtedly lavish on me: a new wardrobe; a generous spending allowance; a coveted internship at one of the Smithsonian Museums. Poor Lady Fiona. She’d arrived in New York City too late. If only she’d knocked on my door with her temptations after my bike accident resulted in a broken collarbone
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