“You were right about everything. Check your email.”
When I got home and opened my laptop, there it was.
An email from Tyler with no subject line, just a bunch of attachments, bank statements, screenshots, scans of checks.
And in that moment, I understood that this wasn’t just favoritism anymore.
It was theft.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I sat at the kitchen table long after Lucas had gone to bed, the glow from my laptop screen lighting the dim room.
Tyler’s email was still open, staring back at me.
24 attachments, all meticulously labeled.
At first, I thought it had to be some kind of mistake.
Maybe he sent me the wrong thing.
But as I started clicking through, the truth unfolded slowly, painfully.
There were copies of checks from my parents’ account made out to Melissa.
Not small ones either.
5,000 here, 8,000 there, regularly.
Some even marked “loan repayment” in the memo line.
