The night before my wedding, my fiancé watched his entire family laugh at me and simply told me to smile and not ruin the mood. Their so-called lucky drawing gave me a brass tag engraved SERVICE ENTRANCE—an empty prize while his beloved sister received a penthouse suite, a sapphire bracelet, and a promise that the family would always protect her. I thought it was cruel luck until I found proof in the trash that the winning tag had been assigned to her from the beginning. Then I discovered they had also planned to give her a lifetime of free access to the house my mother left me. That was when I finally understood the truth: they had never planned to make me part of their family. They planned to make me useful to it. So I walked away from the wedding, cut off the people who had always expected me to sacrifice, and took back everything they thought I would surrender. They gave me the service entrance. I decided to build my own palace.