“You heard me.”

“You are living in a shoebox apartment,” he snarled, “and suddenly you think you get to be arrogant with me?” And then Savannah’s voice, snatching the phone: “God, Fiona, stop being so bitter.

Lucas’s family has real political connections.

Dad is making me executive vice president in January, so you can keep sulking in your little apartment.” As she talked, Sarah slid a single fresh document across the table to me.

It was an emergency suspension of corporate spending authority.

I signed it, in black ink, while my sister told me that some people are simply meant for more in life.