Spencer opened his mouth, but could not find an answer. Paisley, trembling with rage, pointed at me.

“If you really were the daughter of such a powerful man, why did you tolerate it for three years?” Paisley yelled. “Why did you wear old clothes?”

I looked around the living room, and then I looked at Spencer and Paisley.

“Because I believed love meant making myself smaller so the other person could shine,” I said firmly. “Because I thought if I didn’t flaunt my last name, Spencer would love me for who I am. But today I understood something, because anyone who needs you to disappear to feel important never loved you.”

Nobody said anything. My father squeezed my hand tightly.