After the family reunion, I checked my bank account — it was empty. (6 of 9)

“Let’s just get this over with,” I muttered.

“Good,” Seth grinned. “Maybe we can finally stop pretending you were robbed.”

“I was robbed.” I sat down. That was the cue.

“Mason,” Mom began, “we know you’re upset, but we were struggling. We didn’t have any other options.”

“You’ve always been the stable one,” Dad added. “We knew we could count on you.”

“You didn’t ask,” I said, my voice cold. “You took. That’s not family. That’s theft.”

“You’re being so dramatic,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “We didn’t spend it on crap.”

“No?” I reached into my bag, pulled out a printed spreadsheet, and slammed it on the table. “$1,472 on makeup. $900 on takeout. $2,300 to pay off your car loan, Seth. Didn’t think I’d check?”

Seth leaned forward, his face dark. “You went through our accounts?”

“Oh, I did more than that.” I opened my laptop. The screen lit up with a color-coded breakdown of every charge, every transfer—all traceable. “I compiled every transaction. I filed a fraud report. And guess what? They got back to me.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.”