Main Dishes

My name is Helena Callaway. I’m thirty-eight, the youngest daughter in a family that never asks who you are, only what you’re worth. My brother Derek got the easy grin, the handshakes, the proud of you speeches that came wrapped in expensive bourbon and louder-than-necessary laughter. I got quiet meals at the edge of the…

My name is Ila Sinclair, and I’m thirty-five years old. On paper, I’m the tech world’s favorite Cinderella story, an orphan-turned-millionaire, the founder of one of the fastest-growing AI startups in California, the woman smiling off a Forbes cover beside numbers with too many zeroes to feel real. But I wasn’t always Ila Sinclair. Before…

I was still gripping my boarding pass when the TSA agent’s tone turned cold. “Ma’am, I need you to step aside.” A bead of sweat slipped down my back. Phoenix Sky Harbor buzzed with the usual chaos—boarding calls layered over screeching suitcase wheels, a baby crying somewhere near the coffee stand, somebody in a Cardinals…

My name is Vivian Lockwood. I was thirty-four years old, a single mother, a freelance creative director, and the only person in my family still renting an apartment instead of owning a summer house with a private dock and a flag fluttering over the back deck like inherited permission. My sister, Dalia, was the golden…

My name is Vina Delaney. I was thirty-six years old the Christmas my parents forgot to save dessert for my son and then told him, in front of half the family, that only family gets to eat. In Charleston, people knew the Delaneys for three things: old money, older secrets, and a kind of polished…

My name is Deline Riley. I’m thirty-six years old, and I come from a family where power is inherited like silverware—polished, displayed, and quietly dangerous. My parents lived in one of the wealthiest ZIP codes in California, in a house so immaculate it looked less like a home than a museum dedicated to expensive control….