After the family reunion, I checked my bank account — it was empty. (8 of 9)

“Thinking you’re entitled to someone’s money doesn’t make it yours,” another agent said calmly.

I stood back and watched. For the first time in my life, they didn’t talk over me, didn’t mock me, didn’t laugh.

Mom turned to me, her eyes filling with tears. “Mason, please… we didn’t mean to hurt you. We were desperate. You’ve always been the strong one…”

I looked her dead in the eyes. “You don’t get to cry now.”

She covered her mouth and sobbed. I stepped forward. “You want to talk about what family is? It’s trust. It’s respect. It’s asking, not assuming. Not stealing. Not laughing while you bleed me dry.”

They said nothing. I grabbed my bag and turned to the lead agent. “I’ll be outside.”

This time, they didn’t stop me.

That night, I drove without a destination, my phone buzzing nonstop with calls I didn’t answer. By midnight, I ended up parked outside my late grandmother’s house. She used to say, “If they ever turn on you, Mason, you come here. The door will always open for you.” And that night, it did.

For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.

The messages came flooding in over the next few days. Dad wrote, You’ve humiliated the entire family. What happened to loyalty? Sarah texted, I hope you’re happy. You ruined our lives. Mom left a tearful voicemail, They’re threatening charges. They said we might lose the house. I replayed that line. They might lose the house. I had already lost my home years ago when they decided I was worth more as a bank account than a son. I just didn’t care anymore.

But then a different message popped up, from Seth’s sister, Kelly. Just so you know, Sarah’s trying to shift blame on you. Says you knew and approved. There’s a lawyer involved. Watch your back. Even now, she was still trying to spin it.