When Richard Reed jerked his Bentley onto the shoulder of the interstate and told his oldest daughter to get out because Tiffany’s orange Hermès box needed the room, something inside Savannah stopped asking to be loved. It happened so fast the moment almost felt rehearsed. One second the cabin was quiet with that expensive, insulated silence luxury cars are built to sell. The next second the wheels hit gravel, the whole car lurched, and Savannah’s graduation cap slipped sideways over one eye. Her black gown folded around her knees. The gold-embossed commencement program in her lap slid toward the floor....
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