The Art of Graceful Liquidation

Summary

The fortune teller my mother flew in from Kyoto when she was thirty-six took one look at our family tree and delivered an ultimatum: if the Sinclair line wanted to keep its dynastic wealth intact for another century, they had to produce a daughter.

Up until that point, my parents had already managed four sons. Four hyper-disciplined, razor-sharp overachievers who treated Ivy League degrees like starter badges and eighty-hour workweeks like light cardio. And then, finally, came me.

Pearl.