Daily exercise was her therapy. One hundred fifty dollars an hour for her troubles seemed a bit overpriced. But that was her cross to bear.

Denise turned right at a corner by a church. Her mother had given her directions, but Denise preferred to double-check with an online mapping service.

The residential area had nothing in common with her more humble, childhood beginnings.

"Wow!" Large houses, more like mansions, lined both sides of the road. Money was the tool between her and her parents. They used various amounts as her cause dictated. Her stepfather had his business, but had the family wealth. Her mother had class, but not a penny. Unlike her socialite sister, Denise worked in the city's government with its employee grades and job levels and notorious low pay. Her parents weren't impressed with her attempts to be independent. They thought it was better to take care of some things for their children.

A few more turns took her deeper into the neighborhood away from the main thoroughfare. Denise cruised at a pedestrian pace to read the house numbers. Finally, she braked in front of her new house. She looked in the rearview mirror, but saw no traffic. The street was eerily quiet, clean and orderly, as if it were ready for its place on a postcard. And this paradise