But monsters are made, not born.

Harrison had made them, with his money and his coldness and his terror of poverty, just as surely as he had made me, with his absence.

We were all of us, the abandoned daughter and the hollow son, the products of one man’s long-ago choice to value money over love.

The difference was only that I had grown up poor and learned that money was not everything, and Julian had grown up rich and never learned it at all.

I could not hate him for that.