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On my eighteenth birthday, I opened my Stanford acceptance letter—and my dad said, “Give it to Jake. You can take out loans.”

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asking for money.”

Jake muttered, “It’s not fair.”

I almost smiled. “You’re right. It wasn’t.”

They left with nothing.

The next four years were the hardest and best years of my life. I studied until midnight, managed repairs in the building, served coffee before class, and learned how to read contracts better than most adults around me. I graduated from continue reading …

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