For a long while, I just sat there staring at the screen, numb.
Then I opened the next folder Tyler had attached.
Conversations, screenshots, text threads.
The first one was between him and Mom.
Mom: “Tyler, can you make sure Felix doesn’t find out what we’re doing for Christmas this year? I don’t want any drama.”
Tyler: “Why would he care?”
Mom: “He’ll make it about money. He always does.”
Tyler: “You mean fairness?”
Mom: “You’re just like him lately. Don’t start.”
I scrolled down, reading line after line of her justifying the favoritism like it was some kind of kindness.
Mom: “Melissa’s kids need to feel special. They notice things. Felix’s boy is quiet. He won’t mind.”
He won’t mind.
I pushed away from the table and stood up.
My stomach twisted like I was going to be sick.
