An account I didn’t recognize.
I scrolled down.
Then I saw the name.
Brent Hayes.
My brother.
I felt sick.
“That’s not possible.”
My attorney said nothing.
I kept scrolling.
There were transfers for school expenses.
Car payments.
Credit-card balances.
A business loan.
A house deposit.
Even vacations.
For years, my parents had been telling me they couldn’t afford certain things.
They couldn’t afford to replace the kitchen.
They couldn’t afford to help with my children’s activities.
They couldn’t afford birthday gifts for Emma and Noah.
They couldn’t afford to contribute to family vacations.
Yet they had been quietly giving Brent money.
Tens of thousands of dollars.
Maybe more.
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
Then I noticed something else.
A recurring payment.
Every month.
The same amount.
For almost nine years.
I called my attorney.
“What is this?”
