My stepmother called at 11:47 p.m. on the first night in the beach house I bought with my own money and told me she and my father were moving in the next day, that they were taking the master suite, that her daughter would get the best ocean-view room – Reading Times

The house was a massive estate on the California coast, yet Gillian always knew how to make achievements sound small and quaint. She told me they would arrive tomorrow and take the master suite while Paige took the room with the balcony.

“I do not remember inviting anyone to move into my home,” I responded firmly. Gillian sighed as if I were being a difficult child and told me that family did not need invitations.

She instructed me to make sure the linens were turned down and warned me not to use fabric softener because Paige had sensitive skin. I laughed because her sense of entitlement was so absolute that it was almost comical.

“I do not have a housekeeper,” I told her. Gillian paused for a moment before suggesting that perhaps I should hire one immediately.