I opened my banking app expecting to see the $14,000 I’d worked so hard to save. Instead, the number glaring back at me was $4.87. (2 of 5)

My sister, Tessa, didn’t even look up from the couch. “Oh, calm down. You act like it’s gone forever,” she said, swirling wine in her glass. “You’re doing fine. No kids, no mortgage, no stress. You’ve always helped.”

“Helped? You cleaned me out.”

“It’s not stealing if we plan to pay it back,” Seth shrugged. “Eventually.”

I turned to Mom. “Did you know?”

She didn’t stop knitting. “You’re sensitive, Drew. You’ve always had more than the rest of us. You’ll bounce back.”

That moment hit harder than I could’ve imagined. Not the money. The betrayal. The entitlement.

“You left your banking info open on the family computer,” Tessa added, like it was my fault. “Maybe next time, don’t.”

I stood there in the kitchen, the air thick with wine, silence, and casual cruelty. “You think this is okay?”

“It’s family,” Dad said without looking up from his phone.

I grabbed my coat, my voice low and steady. “Then you won’t mind what happens next.”

They laughed.