My sister’s son hurled a dinner fork at me and declared, “Mom says you’re basically the help.” The table erupted in laughter. I was gone before dessert ever reached the plates.

“Robert,” my mother warned, but her voice lacked its usual bite. She sounded tired.

Jennifer stared at her plate for a long moment.

“I guess… I always assumed,” she said finally, quietly.

“Assumed what?” I asked, not sharp, just curious.

She swallowed, embarrassed.

“That you were… less,” she admitted.

The word hit the table like a dropped utensil.

Jessica’s head snapped up, eyes flashing. “Jennifer—”

“It’s true,” Jennifer said quickly, cheeks flushing. “It’s what everyone thought. You lived in that apartment. You didn’t… show off.” She gestured vaguely, like she was trying to point to the concept of wealth without naming it.

I nodded slowly.

“Yes,” I said. “I didn’t show off.”

Uncle Robert leaned back, eyebrows raised. “Turns out that’s because she’s smarter than the rest of us,” he muttered.

My mother shot him a look, but there was something like reluctant agreement in her face.