“Oh, please. What are you doing now, Felix? Another dramatic stunt?”
I ignored her.
I slid the envelope toward my dad.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
He hesitated, then picked it up and pulled out the papers inside.
Printouts, screenshots, and a few old photos.
His expression shifted from confusion to irritation to something I hadn’t seen before.
“What is this supposed to be?” he asked.
“Receipts,” I said simply. “Literal and metaphorical.”
Mom reached over, taking the pages from him, scanning them quickly.
Her hand froze halfway down the second page.
It was a printout from her email, one she’d sent to Melissa about a month before Christmas.
“I want to do something special for the kids this year. Melissa, can you send me their wish lists? I’ll make sure they get exactly what they asked for. Don’t tell Felix. We’ll say we’re cutting back so he doesn’t expect much.”
