It was a leak.

I was not failing to fill the vessel; the vessel had a hole in the bottom shaped exactly like the Vance family, and no amount of pouring was ever going to fill it, because it was designed to drain.

The day I stopped pouring, I discovered I had been rich all along — rich in money, yes, but more than that in capacity, in competence, in the plain human worth I had let them convince me had to be earned at their register.

I did not need a seat at their table.