@redditstories384: part 2 You ever get an invitation to a family reunion you know you’re not welcome at, but it still lands in your mailbox like a dare? For me, it was a gold-trimmed card from the Whitmores, my own , who’d spent years pretending I didn’t exist—until I realized I owned the hotel they’d booked for their fancy little gathering. What happens when the family who wrote you off finds out you’re the one holding the keys?