Zero.

A granddaughter was not a lesser heir to the Ravenels; she was a non-event, a rounding error, a thing to be smoothed past on the way to the real business of the male line.

And I understood, sipping that tasteless broth and nodding along, that this was not Camden’s private cruelty but the whole family’s quiet creed, held for generations, passed down and agreed upon and never once examined — and that my daughter had been born into a house that had already, before she drew breath, decided she did not fully count.

It hardened something in me that his coldness alone had not quite finished hardening.