Laughter drifted from the kitchen.
My older brother, Jason, sat at the table with my parents, sipping beer from one of Dad’s glass mugs like they were celebrating something. My mother noticed me first and smiled in a way that made my stomach knot.
“Oh, you’re home,” she said lightly.
“Why is my suitcase by the door?”
Jason leaned back in his chair, relaxed and smug, already savoring a win. “Your work is finished,” he said. “We got what we wanted. Don’t look back at us now.”
I stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
Dad actually chuckled. “Don’t act confused.”
Then Jason pulled my ATM card from his pocket and flicked it onto the table.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
“You stole my card?”
“Borrowed,” he said. “And emptied the account.”
I lunged for it, but he moved faster, pressing it beneath his palm. “Relax. It’s family money anyway.”
