She Bragged Her Way to Billions

Summary

My daughter, Phoebe, was a pathological fabulist.

Hand her a five-dollar allowance, and she’d tell her classmates she was sitting on a fifty-million-dollar trust fund. House her in a modest two-bedroom rental, and she’d casually mention our thirty-thousand-square-foot estate in Greenwich.

To cure her of this insufferable, soul-deep vanity, her father and I decided to play the long game: we staged an elaborate, suffocating performance of poverty.

Until tonight.

Tonight, she dragged me to an upscale private banquet for her prep school class.