My name is Emily Carter, and until my sister’s wedding, I thought I understood exactly where I stood in my family

family never did.

And that was their loss.

Not mine.

I stood at the glass overlooking Chicago.

For the first time in thirty-two years, I felt free.

Not because I had won.

But because I had finally stopped asking permission to exist.

And that was worth far more than any penthouse could ever be.