“You committed fraud,” I said quietly.
My mother laughed as if I had said something ridiculous.
“Fraud? Don’t be dramatic. We’re family.”
My father’s voice floated through the background.
“Tell her to stop making such a scene.”
Then I heard Melanie laughing excitedly as she thanked our mother for the shopping spree, as though my credit card had simply been sitting there waiting for someone else to enjoy it.
For one long second, I imagined screaming in the middle of the elevator lobby. I imagined throwing my phone onto the marble floor and finally saying every word I had swallowed since childhood, every time Melanie was praised while I was treated like nothing more than a bank account with a pulse.
But I stayed quiet.
Some families steal because desperation gives them no other choice. Mine stole because they truly believed everything I earned already belonged to them. Desperation asks for help. Entitlement simply swipes the card.
“Don’t celebrate too early,” I said.
