But the receiving account wasn’t my mother’s.
It was Trevor’s.
I flipped through more paperwork.
- Payments to a casino
- Charges at a bar
- Cash withdrawals at 2:00 AM
- “Urgent” collections notices that weren’t mine
My mother hadn’t been using the money for debt relief.
She’d been funneling it to my brother.
Every single month.
While I skipped vacations and worked extra shifts to “save her.”
I staggered back against the wall like the room had shifted under my feet.
Trevor appeared in the doorway.
His face dropped when he saw the papers in my hands.
“Put that down,” he said, voice suddenly small.
“You’ve been taking my money,” I whispered. “Both of you. For two years.”
He shrugged like it was minor.
“Mom needed help. I needed help. Same thing.”
“No,” I said, and my voice finally sharpened. “It’s not.”
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