Minutes later, my own mother called and snapped, \u201cWe\u2019re short-handed. Get here NOW!\u201d They actually expected me to abandon my little girl on the operating table for my sister\u2019s party. They had no idea that one phone call would make me finally do what I\u2019d been putting off for years\u2014and nothing in our family would ever be the same.<\/p>\n
The red light above Operating Room 3 stayed on. It was a reminder that my eight-year-old daughter was in a surgery that could change the rest of her life.<\/p>\n
A truck had slammed into our car. Three bones in Poppy\u2019s spine were broken. A team of children\u2019s brain and spine surgeons was working to ease the pressure on her spinal cord.<\/p>\n
I sat on the cold hospital floor, holding my phone with shaking hands. I had called my parents twelve times. I hoped they would come and be with us. No one picked up.<\/p>\n
At exactly 7:15 p.m., my younger sister Gwen called me on FaceTime. I answered right away. I felt relief. Maybe someone in my family was finally checking on Poppy.<\/p>\n
But the screen showed a fancy party at one of the best country clubs in the city. Crystal chandeliers sparkled over guests in nice clothes. Gwen stood in the middle in a custom emerald-green gown, holding a glass of champagne.<\/p>\n
About thirty relatives stood behind her, laughing. They were celebrating her new PhD. My daughter was lying on an operating table, and my whole family was having a party as if nothing had happened.<\/p>\n
\u201cBrooke, stop making everything about your problems,\u201d Gwen snapped. \u201cMom and Dad picked my graduation party over your sick kid. Nobody wants another sad story from you tonight. Don\u2019t ruin my party by begging for sympathy.\u201d<\/p>\n
I tried to speak, but she hung up.<\/p>\n
I stared at my phone. How could my sister be so cold? She never asked if Poppy was alive. Seeing my parents smiling at that party made their silence hurt even more.<\/p>\n
A few seconds later, Mom called. I answered with a small spark of hope. Maybe she had finally remembered that her granddaughter was in emergency surgery.<\/p>\n
\u201cBrooke! We have a big problem!\u201d she yelled. \u201cTwo waitresses quit, and the university provost\u2019s table is full of dirty dishes!\u201d<\/p>\n
I could not understand why she was talking about dishes on the worst night of my life. Then she gave me an order that left me speechless.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet to the country club right now. Come in through the kitchen door, put on an apron, and start clearing tables before dinner is served!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, Poppy is in surgery right now,\u201d I whispered. \u201cThe doctors don\u2019t even know if she will walk again.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother sounded annoyed, not worried.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou sitting in that hospital won\u2019t make the doctors work faster! You have twenty minutes to get here. If you embarrass Gwen, don\u2019t expect to stay in this family!\u201d<\/p>\n
She hung up before I could answer.<\/p>\n
I sat frozen, staring at the black screen. My own mother had threatened to throw me out of the family because I would not leave my badly hurt child to work for free at my sister\u2019s party.<\/p>\n
They had no idea who I really was.<\/p>\n
To them, I was a failed freelancer. They thought I made about $35,000 a year doing simple data-entry jobs. They did not know I owned a medical software company worth forty million dollars. My technology ran in four hundred hospital systems.<\/p>\n
They also did not know that their fancy cars, their country club memberships, and Gwen\u2019s big graduation party were all paid for from accounts that I controlled. I had helped them in secret because I believed family mattered more than praise.<\/p>\n
But sitting outside my daughter\u2019s operating room, I finally saw it clearly. They had mistaken my kindness for weakness.<\/p>\n
I wiped my tears. I reached into my canvas bag and took out the titanium laptop I used to run my company\u2019s money. I typed in my security codes and opened the accounts that paid for my family\u2019s easy life.<\/p>\n
My mother had given me twenty minutes to leave my daughter and show up at Gwen\u2019s party.<\/p>\n
She had no idea what I could do in twenty minutes.<\/p>\n
The laptop screen lit up my shaking fingers in the dim hallway. I did not answer any more messages from my family. Instead, I opened the private dashboard of Northline Capital, the company that managed my personal money.<\/p>\n
For years, my parents and my sister had lived like a very successful family. They drove luxury cars. They belonged to fancy clubs. They spent freely on school, trips, and parties, and they never asked how it was all paid for.<\/p>\n
What they did not know was that I had been quietly paying for almost all of it.<\/p>\n
Seven years earlier, my father, Gerald Holt, had nearly destroyed his small architecture business with a string of bad money choices. His company was close to going bankrupt. But instead of facing the truth, he kept acting as if his career was doing great.<\/p>\n
Then, one day, a \u201cconsulting payment\u201d of $22,000 started landing in his bank account every month. Gerald believed it came from a rich stranger who admired his work and wanted to pay him for his knowledge.<\/p>\n
He never guessed that the \u201cstranger\u201d was a private trust I had set up to keep him from going broke.<\/p>\n
Every single month, I paid that money myself. I let him think it was proof of his own good name. I never asked for thanks. I wanted to protect his pride and save our family from the shame of bankruptcy.<\/p>\n
My sister Gwen had been helped in the same way all through school. Her college at Dartmouth, her graduate studies at Oxford, and her five years of doctoral work cost a huge amount of money.<\/p>\n
Yet Gwen never once asked how our parents could afford it.<\/p>\n
Through the Holt Family Educational Trust, I had quietly paid more than $480,000 for her tuition, her fancy housing, her trips abroad, her spending money, and her leased BMWs. Every bill went through accounts that I had opened and kept filled.<\/p>\n
Gwen believed her education and her easy life proved she was the best thing our family ever made. Meanwhile, she made fun of my \u201clittle freelance job.\u201d She did not know that the sister she looked down on was paying for the life she bragged about.<\/p>\n
The trust\u2019s papers named only one person in charge of its money and its rules.<\/p>\n
Brooke Holt.<\/strong><\/p>\n And tonight\u2019s big PhD party at Maple Ridge Country Club was no different.<\/p>\n My parents were proudly greeting important guests. Gwen was enjoying being the star. And the whole event was being paid for from another account that I controlled.<\/p>\n For years, they had treated me like the least successful person in the family. They never knew that the money behind their perfect image belonged to the daughter they kept brushing aside.<\/p>\n As I read the payment records on my screen, I thought about Poppy lying behind the operating room doors. My family had ordered me to leave her during the scariest hours of her life, just so I could serve guests at a party I was secretly paying for.<\/p>\n For the first time, I asked myself why I had given up so much for people who cared so little about my daughter.<\/p>\n And as I opened the records for Maple Ridge Country Club, I knew my family had made one huge mistake.<\/p>\n They had believed their rich life would go on no matter how they treated me.<\/p>\n I placed my hands on the keys, the cool metal of the laptop grounding me against the sting of my mother\u2019s cold ultimatum. My heart was still pounding for Poppy, but the grief and panic in my chest had hardened into a crystalline, absolute clarity.<\/p>\n They thought I was a pushover. They thought I was a quiet, pathetic failure who would crawl on my hands and knees to clear dirty dishes just to keep a roof over my head. They had no idea that the roof over their<\/i> heads was entirely mine.<\/p>\n My fingers flew across the custom terminal. First, I accessed the Holt Family Educational Trust interface. I brought up Gwen\u2019s profile. Active disbursements: $4,200 monthly allowance, $1,100 per month for her BMW 4 Series lease, and a pending $18,000 transfer scheduled for midnight to cover her upcoming post-doctoral research trip to Europe.<\/p>\n With three deliberate keystrokes, I revoked her status as a beneficiary, cited a breach of trust terms, and canceled all recurring transfers. The European funds instantly vanished back into my primary ledger.<\/p>\n Next, I opened the file for Holt Architecture. My father\u2019s monthly \u201cconsulting fee\u201d of $22,000 was set to auto-deposit in three days. I opened the transfer protocol, cleared the schedule, and liquidated the underlying liquidity pool. Gerald Holt\u2019s architectural firm had been running on life support for nearly a decade, completely sustained by my quiet charity. Without that monthly wire, his business account would bounce its payroll by Friday afternoon.<\/p>\n Finally, I pulled up the merchant gateway for the Maple Ridge Country Club.<\/p>\n The invoice for tonight\u2019s lavish grand ballroom event totaled $42,500. It included the top-tier catering package, top-shelf liquor, live classical musicians, and custom floral arrangements. The agreement had been secured using my private corporate credit card through Northline Capital, with a pre-authorization hold. The final settlement charge was set to execute at 8:00 p.m.\u2014exactly five minutes from now.<\/p>\n I opened the vendor authorization window, typed in my executive authorization pin, and clicked REVOKE AUTHORIZATION & FREEZE CREDIT LINE<\/b>.<\/p>\n A small, stark notification popped up on the screen: Payment Authorization Cancelled. Vendor Notification Dispatched to On-Site Management.<\/i><\/p>\n I closed the laptop lid with a soft snap<\/i>, slid it back into my canvas bag, and placed my hands together in my lap. My phone remained silent beside me. I looked up at the bright red light above Operating Room 3 and took a deep, steady breath. The quiet hum of the hospital corridor swallowed the silence.<\/p>\n Five miles away, in the grand ballroom of the Maple Ridge Country Club, the party was at its peak.<\/p>\n Gwen was standing near the tiered champagne tower, holding court with the university provost, Dr. Aris Thorne, and several high-ranking faculty members. She gestured dramatically with her crystal flute, laughing at a joke about academic rigor.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s really all about discipline,\u201d Gwen said, her voice carrying easily over the soft violin music. \u201cSome people simply don\u2019t have the drive to achieve true excellence. My parents always instilled a relentless work ethic in me, which is why I was able to finish my doctorate in record time.\u201d<\/p>\n Her mother, Eleanor Holt, beamed with pride, smoothing down her designer silk dress. \u201cWe couldn\u2019t be prouder,\u201d Eleanor chimed in, taking a sip of wine. \u201cWe\u2019ve always supported Gwen\u2019s brilliant mind. It\u2019s an investment in real success.\u201d<\/p>\n Gerald Holt nodded in agreement, adjusting his tailored tuxedo jacket. \u201cHard work pays off. In my firm, I always tell my associates\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n He was interrupted by a sharp touch on his shoulder.<\/p>\n Gerald turned to find the country club\u2019s general manager, Richard Vance, standing behind him. Vance\u2019s face was pale, his mouth set in a tight, uneasy line. Beside him stood two head waiters and the club\u2019s chief financial coordinator holding a digital tablet.<\/p>\n \u201cMr. Holt, Mrs. Holt,\u201d Vance said quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to attract the attention of the provost. \u201cI need you both to step into my office immediately.\u201d<\/p>\n Eleanor frowned, annoyed by the interruption. \u201cRichard, please. We are in the middle of talking to the provost. If this is about those two waitresses who walked out, I already told you my eldest daughter is on her way to cover the tables.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis is not about the waitstaff, Mrs. Holt,\u201d Vance said, his tone entirely void of its usual warmth. \u201cThis is regarding the payment for tonight\u2019s event. Please. Right now.\u201d<\/p>\n Exchanging irritated glances, Gerald and Eleanor stepped away from the group, motioning for Gwen to stay put. They followed Vance through a side door into the administrative offices, away from the glittering chandeliers.<\/p>\n Vance closed the door, walked behind his heavy mahogany desk, and did not offer them a seat.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is the meaning of this, Vance?\u201d Gerald demanded, placing his hands on his hips. \u201cWe have over eighty distinguished guests out there. This is a crucial night for my daughter\u2019s career.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTen minutes ago, our automated payment system attempted to process the remaining balance of $42,500 for tonight\u2019s reservation,\u201d Vance stated flatly. \u201cThe corporate card on file rejected the charge.\u201d<\/p>\n Gerald scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. \u201cNonsense. It\u2019s a high-limit card. Run it again. Your system must be having a glitch.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe ran it three times, Mr. Holt,\u201d the financial coordinator chimed in. \u201cWhen we contacted the merchant processor, we were informed that the primary cardholder did not merely decline the charge\u2014they formally revoked vendor authorization, flagged the event as an unapproved expense, and froze the credit line.\u201d<\/p>\n Eleanor\u2019s eyes widened. \u201cThat\u2019s impossible! That account is tied to our family\u2019s educational trust!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe card belongs to a primary account holder named Brooke Holt, operating under Northline Capital,\u201d Vance said, reading directly from his screen. \u201cAlong with the revocation, Ms. Holt\u2019s legal representative issued a formal notice to the club. Effective eight minutes ago, all funds originating from Northline Capital for the Holt family have been permanently locked pending a structural audit.\u201d<\/p>\n Gerald felt the blood drain from his face. \u201cBrooke? Brooke\u2019s name is on that card?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe is the sole corporate owner and guarantor,\u201d Vance replied coldly. \u201cAnd since the payment for this evening\u2019s hall rental, open bar, catering, and staff has been revoked, this event is currently fully unpaid.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere has to be a mistake,\u201d Eleanor stammered, her voice high and panicked. \u201cBrooke is a freelancer! She does data entry! She doesn\u2019t have a corporate card\u2014she barely makes thirty-five thousand dollars a year!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMrs. Holt, I don\u2019t know what your daughter does in her personal life, but her company holds a major institutional account with us,\u201d Vance said sternly. \u201cAnd right now, without a valid form of payment, I am required by club policy to shut down the event immediately, lock the bar, and request that all guests clear the premises.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou can\u2019t do that!\u201d Eleanor gasped, clutching her chest. \u201cThe provost is out there! The entire department is out there! If you shut this party down, Gwen\u2019s reputation will be ruined before her career even begins!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen pull out another card, Mr. Holt,\u201d Vance said, looking squarely at Gerald. \u201cForty-two thousand, five hundred dollars. Right now.\u201d<\/p>\n Gerald\u2019s hand shook as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his personal black credit card\u2014the one linked to his architectural firm\u2019s main operational account. \u201cHere. Put it on this. Just keep the bar open.\u201d<\/p>\n The coordinator took the card and swiped it through the terminal. A loud, sharp beep rang through the office.<\/p>\n DECLINED \u2013 INSUFFICIENT FUNDS.<\/i><\/p>\n Gerald stared at the terminal in utter disbelief. \u201cThat\u2019s impossible! My monthly consulting transfer hit three days ago\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMr. Holt, your balance is less than twelve hundred dollars,\u201d the coordinator said quietly.<\/p>\n Before Gerald could process the words, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. It was an urgent notification from his bank\u2019s automated alert system. He pulled it up with trembling fingers.<\/p>\n ALERT: Monthly retainer from Apex Advisory Trust ($22,000.00) cancelled by sender. Account balance updated.<\/i><\/p>\n Right below it was a secondary text from his chief accountant: Gerald, our corporate line of credit just collapsed. The guarantor trust withdrew support. Payroll for Friday will bounce. Call me NOW.<\/i><\/p>\n \u201cNo\u2026\u201d Gerald whispered, the phone nearly slipping from his grasp. \u201cNo, no, no\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Eleanor grabbed his arm, her eyes wide with terror. \u201cGerald? What\u2019s happening? What is going on?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was her,\u201d Gerald breathed, his face turning ghostly white as the truth finally shattered his years of denial. \u201cThe consulting payments\u2026 the trust\u2026 it was never a client. It was Brooke. It was always Brooke.\u201d<\/p>\n Eleanor blinked, utterly lost. \u201cWhat are you talking about?! Brooke does data entry!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s not a freelancer, Eleanor!\u201d Gerald shouted, his voice cracking with sudden, overwhelming despair. \u201cShe owns the trust! She\u2019s been paying my business expenses for seven years! She\u2019s been paying for everything!\u201d<\/p>\n The door to the office burst open. Gwen stepped inside, looking furious, her emerald gown trailing behind her.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is taking so long?!\u201d Gwen snapped, looking between her parents and the manager. \u201cThe catering staff is refusing to open the second champagne tier! They told the provost that the bar is closed! Mom, Dad, fix this right now! It is incredibly embarrassing!\u201d<\/p>\n Eleanor looked at her youngest daughter, her mouth opening and closing without making a sound.<\/p>\n Vance folded his arms across his chest. \u201cMr. Holt, I am giving you five minutes to inform your guests that the party is over, or I will have club security clear the room and escort your family off the property.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWait! Please!\u201d Gwen cried out, finally sensing the absolute panic in the room. \u201cWhat is going on?! Dad, just pay them!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t pay them, Gwen!\u201d Gerald sobbed, sinking heavily into a chair, burying his face in his hands. \u201cI don\u2019t have the money! None of us have the money! It was all Brooke\u2019s!\u201d<\/p>\n Gwen\u2019s breath hitched. \u201cWhat do you mean it was Brooke\u2019s?! That\u2019s ridiculous! Brooke is broke! She lives in a modest apartment! She drives a six-year-old hatchback!\u201d<\/p>\n Eleanor hastily pulled out her phone, her hands shaking so violently she could barely type. She dialed Brooke\u2019s number.<\/p>\n Ring.<\/i> Ring.<\/i> Ring.<\/i><\/p>\n It went straight to voicemail.<\/p>\n Eleanor dialed again. And again. On the fourth attempt, the call was finally answered.<\/p>\n \u201cBrooke!\u201d Eleanor shrieked into the phone, her voice frantic, tears spilling over her makeup. \u201cBrooke, what did you do?! The club is threatening to throw us out! Gerald\u2019s card declined! They\u2019re saying you cancelled the payments! Fix this right now! You are ruining your sister\u2019s life!\u201d<\/p>\n Across the city, in the quiet, sterile hallway of the hospital, I stood up from the hard floor. Through the small glass window of Operating Room 3, the heavy doors pushed open. The lead surgeon walked out, pulling down his surgical mask, a warm, tired smile on his face.<\/p>\n He gave me a clear, firm thumbs-up.<\/p>\n The surgery was a success.<\/i><\/p>\n I felt a tear slip down my cheek\u2014not of pain, but of pure, unadulterated relief. I pressed the phone to my ear, listening to my mother\u2019s screaming voice on the line.<\/p>\n \u201cBrooke! Are you listening to me?!\u201d Eleanor cried out, her voice echoing over the speaker. \u201cGwen is crying! The provost is watching us! You need to put the money back right now!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMom,\u201d I said, my voice completely calm, smooth, and entirely devoid of emotion.<\/p>\n The cold tone made Eleanor stop mid-sentence.<\/p>\n \u201cPoppy is out of surgery,\u201d I said softly. \u201cThe pressure on her spine has been relieved. The doctors say she is going to recover. She is going to walk again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBrooke, that\u2019s\u2026 that\u2019s nice, dear, but you don\u2019t understand what\u2019s happening here\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Mom,\u201d I interrupted, cutting her off like a razor. \u201cYou don\u2019t understand what\u2019s happening.\u201d<\/p>\n I took a deep breath, standing tall in the quiet hospital corridor.<\/p>\n \u201cFor seven years, I paid twenty-two thousand dollars a month to keep Dad\u2019s failed architecture firm from going into bankruptcy, just so he could keep his pride. I paid nearly half a million dollars for Gwen\u2019s tuition, her elite housing, her trips to Oxford, and her luxury cars. I paid for your country club membership. I paid for the clothes on your back. And I paid for the party you are standing in right now.\u201d<\/p>\n On the other end of the line, complete, dead silence fell over the manager\u2019s office. Gwen and Gerald stood frozen, listening to the speakerphone.<\/p>\n \u201cYou told me I had twenty minutes to leave my hurt child and clean dirty dishes at a party I bought for you,\u201d I continued, my voice steady and unyielding. \u201cYou told me that if I didn\u2019t come, I shouldn\u2019t expect to stay in this family.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBrooke\u2026 sweetie\u2026\u201d Eleanor gasped, her tone changing in an instant, turning desperate and weak. \u201cWe didn\u2019t know\u2026 we didn\u2019t mean it like that\u2026 we were just stressed\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou made your choice, Mom,\u201d I said. \u201cYou chose dirty dishes over your granddaughter\u2019s life. So now, I am choosing my daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBrooke, please!\u201d Gwen grabbed the phone, her voice screeching in pure terror. \u201cBrooke, you can\u2019t do this to me! My PhD! My career! I have a lease payment due on Friday! I have my research trip to Oxford! You can\u2019t just ruin my life!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t ruin your life, Gwen,\u201d I said quietly. \u201cI just stopped paying for it. Welcome to the real world. You have a PhD now\u2014I\u2019m sure you can figure out how to work for a living.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBrooke, wait!\u201d Gerald\u2019s broken voice cried out from the background. \u201cBrooke, my firm\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEffective tonight, all financial support from Northline Capital to the Holt family is permanently terminated,\u201d I said. \u201cThe trust is closed. The credit lines are canceled. Do not call me again unless it is to ask about Poppy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBrooke, please don\u2019t do this!\u201d Eleanor sobbed. \u201cWe are your family!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFamily stands together outside an operating room,\u201d I said softly. \u201cYou were just guests at a party you couldn\u2019t afford.\u201d<\/p>\n I ended the call.<\/p>\n I tapped the screen, blocked all three of their numbers, and slid the phone back into my pocket.<\/p>\n A nurse pushed open the doors to the recovery unit, smiling warmly at me. \u201cMs. Holt? Poppy is waking up now. She\u2019s asking for you.\u201d<\/p>\n I wiped the last tear from my face, turned my back on the hallway, and walked into my daughter\u2019s room, leaving the past\u2014and the family that took me for granted\u2014behind forever.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Minutes later, my own mother called and snapped, \u201cWe\u2019re short-handed. Get here NOW!\u201d They actually expected me to abandon my little girl on the operating table for my sister\u2019s party. … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":37286,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-53743","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53743","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=53743"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53743\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":53745,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53743\/revisions\/53745"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/37286"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=53743"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=53743"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=53743"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}PART 3<\/h1>\n