Chapter 1

My parents get a monthly pension check of about fifteen hundred dollars. The second it hits their account, they wire every single cent directly to my younger brother.

For fifteen years, they haven’t missed a single month.

Back then, they claimed Ethan was their golden boy—the one who would take care of them in their old age. So naturally, they said the money belonged to him.

I never argued. I never said a word.

Later, when I bought my first apartment and was ten thousand dollars short on the down payment, I begged every friend I knew. I never once asked my parents for a penny.

A while after that, an emergency came up. I maxed out two credit cards and spent six grueling months scraping together every cent to pay them off. Still, I kept my mouth shut.

Until this year, when Mom called.

She told me Dad needed surgery and demanded I wire her seven thousand dollars immediately.

I paused, and then I let out a dry laugh.

"Mom, didn't you hand all your money to Ethan because you agreed "he" was the one taking care of your retirement?"

Silence stretched over the line for two long seconds before Mom’s voice shrilled in outrage.

"What kind of attitude is that? He’s your father!"

"Ethan is tight on cash right now. He just bought a new house, and Chloe is about to have a baby. We don't want to burden him."

"So you dump the burden on me instead?"

I cut her off, my knuckles whitening around the phone.

"Mom, your pension is more than enough for two retirees in a small town. What you do with it is your business. You gave it to Ethan for fifteen years, and I never once complained. Now Dad needs surgery, and you turn around and demand seven thousand from me? Don't you think your math is completely off?"

"What do you mean, off?!" Mom snapped, her voice rising in panic. "He’s your flesh and blood! Ethan isn't doing well financially. Can’t you, as his older sister, just step up and help?"

"He isn't doing well?" I laughed out loud. "Mom, he just moved into a four-bedroom house. Who paid that massive down payment? And that brand-new SUV his wife drives—who bought that? You two sent him fifteen hundred dollars every single month. That's over a quarter of a million dollars over the past fifteen years!"

"You..."

Mom choked. A few seconds passed, and her tone softened into something pathetic and pleading.

"Nicole, listen to me. Ethan really has it rough. His mortgage is huge, Chloe is pregnant, and as his parents, we have to look out for them."

"And did you ever once look out for me?" I asked.

Silence hit the line again.

I could hear Dad muttering something faintly in the background, but Mom quickly spoke over him:

"Nicole, why do you have to be so petty? We’re family! Why do you keep track of every little cent? Your dad raised you. Now that he's sick, shouldn't you be pitching in?"

"Should I?"

I repeated the word, an overwhelming exhaustion washing over me.

"Mom, it was 'should' when your entire pension went straight to Ethan every month. Now that Dad is sick, it's 'should' when you come hunting me down for cash. What about Ethan? What is "he" supposed to do?"

"Of course he will! He’s just tight on money right now—"

"Tight on money." I scoffed. "Mom, do you honestly believe that lie yourself?"

Mom seemed utterly choked by my words. After a moment, her voice hardened again.

"Nicole, what kind of disrespect is this? I am your mother! Your father is lying in a hospital bed waiting for an operation, and this is how you talk to us?"

I stayed completely silent.

"Fine, fine! I’m done talking!" Mom exploded. "Are you going to wire the money or not?"

"No."

Hearing those two letters leave my lips, my voice sounded eerily calm.

The line froze for a split second, and then Mom shrieked, "Nicole! That’s your father! Do you have no conscience at all?!"

"Mom," I said calmly. "Didn't you give all your money to Ethan because you agreed he'd take care of your old age?"