After the family reunion, I checked my bank account — it was empty. (2 of 9)

“Language, Mason,” Dad muttered without looking up from his phone.

I turned to Sarah. “How did you even get access?”

“You left your info on the family computer,” she said, utterly unapologetic. “Maybe next time don’t log in and walk away. Honestly, it’s your own fault.”

My own… I stopped myself, my fingers curling into fists, my breathing gone shallow.

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be,” Seth said. “It’s not like we wasted it. We paid rent, bought groceries. You know, survived.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“We didn’t think we had to!” Sarah snapped. “You’ve been paying for stuff for years. What’s the difference if it comes through you or from you?”

I picked up my bag slowly. No one moved. No one apologized. No one even looked surprised.

“You’re leaving already?” Mom asked.

“Yep,” I said, zipping my coat. “But don’t worry. I’ll be in touch.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “We needed it more than you. That’s just facts.”