I Let Them Use My Money Until They Fed My Son a Hotdog

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Just something brought over from the bar.

My brother slid it toward Noah without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

“There you go.”

“Kids love hotdogs.”

Eight-year-old Noah looked silently at the paper plate.

Then across the table.

His cousins were already cutting into thick prime steaks worth more than most people spent on an entire family meal.

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