contacted the fraud department and spoke words my family never imagined I’d say.
“No, I did not approve those charges.”
The representative asked whether I suspected anyone.
I glanced down the hallway toward Dad’s closed bedroom door.
“Yes,” I said. “I know exactly who.”
By morning, the house felt different. Not calmer, but tense, as though a storm had settled inside.
Dad descended the stairs holding his phone. “Ethan.”
I poured coffee. “Morning.”
“Did something happen to your card?”
“My card?” I asked.
Diane appeared behind him in a silk
