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I had begun my life starving.

Not for food, shelter, water, or any of the other physical necessities one needed to survive.

I supposed that was one thing I could accredit to my father.

As a prominent and successful lawyer, he’d provided me with the things I required for as long as he was legally obligated—not that it hadn’t come at a price, but he’d provided it nonetheless.

So, I guessed, in that way, I’d been more fortunate than many, but no amount of food or water could quell the ache bestowed upon me at birth.

I was famished. Forever craving something my father or mother could never— would never—provide. Not to me. My sisters, sure. They’d been born pure, for reasons unbeknownst to me at the time. They’d been born worthy , but, no, not me.

Cursed—that was what I was. Hungry for affection, appreciation, love, and a place to finally call home.

But that all changed when I—

Actually, why don’t I just start at the beginning? Back to when I had been a kid, to a time before cell phones and the internet, when I’d truly, honestly, stupidly thought I could do something to win my father over.

And, boy, was I willing to do anything …