Jason’s office smelled of leather and printer ink. He folded his hands across his desk, delivering bad news with the practiced gentleness of someone trained to do so.
“Your mother and sister came in this morning,” he said. “They were… distressed.”
I nodded. “I imagine they were.”
“They claim there’s been a mistake, that you cut off funds without notice,” he continued.
I leaned back in my chair. “There was notice. For years.”
He glanced at his screen. “You’ve been covering their expenses since you were twenty-four. Nearly forty percent of your income.”
“I know,” I said. “I did the math.”
He hesitated, then said, “They’re asking us to override the freeze.”
“You can’t,” I replied simply.
He nodded. “Correct. Only you can.”
Outside the bank, my phone exploded with missed calls and voicemails. My sister Ashley’s voice screamed through one: “How DARE you humiliate me like this? Do you know what this does to my wedding?”
