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I stood behind the counter of my small vintage bookstore, arranging a display of first editions when the bell above the door chimed. My heart sank - I'd recognize those expensive leather shoes anywhere. My brother Michael strutted in like he owned the place, which technically, he did. At least that's what he thought. "Still playing shopkeeper, Sarah?" His voice dripped with condescension as he glanced around my carefully curated store, wrinkling his nose at the smell of old books and coffee. "You know, when you said you were quitting your corporate job to 'follow your dreams,' I expected something more... impressive." I took a deep breath, steadying myself. Five years ago, I'd walked away from a six-figure salary at our family's real estate development firm. My father had been furious, my mother disappointed, and Michael - well, he never missed a chance to remind me what a failure I was. "What do you want, Michael?" I asked, though I already knew. He only visited for one reason. He pulled an envelope from his designer suit jacket,