There was no cash inside.
There was an invoice.
Twenty-three pages.
Every transfer I had made since I turned sixteen.
Every bill paid from my account.
Every “temporary loan” that eventually became family history instead of repayment.
Dad stared at the first page.
“What is this nonsense?”
“My version of giving back,” I said.
Mom flipped through the pages faster, her smile disappearing line by line.
Rent assistance: $18,400.
Utility payments: $11,260.
Car repairs: $7,900.
Medical copays: $4,300.
