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. (3 of 5)

They always laughed. I’d been the fallback guy for years. Covered Tessa’s phone bill. Lent Seth money when he lost another job. Bought groceries “just this once” more times than I could count. I didn’t complain. I thought that’s what family did.

But this was different. This was deliberate.

Two days later, Tessa called. Then texted. Then Seth messaged: “Call her. She’s panicking.”

I finally answered. Her voice was shaking. “They’re shutting off our power. We need help.”

I laughed—short and bitter. “You stole from me, and now you want more?”

“It wasn’t just us,” she snapped. “It was for Mom and Dad too.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“You never would’ve said yes!”

Exactly.

That week, I printed every transaction. Thousands on takeout, beauty products, car payments. I filed a report. It wasn’t just family drama anymore—it was fraud.

At the next “family dinner,” I dropped the spreadsheet on the table. “$4,672 of ‘we needed it more than you.’ And now the police know too.”