them.
“Not yet.”
Clara faced my parents.
“Four years ago, I gave you ten thousand dollars for Emily’s education. I want a written accounting of where it went.”
Dad objected.
“That money was a gift!”
“It was specifically intended for her tuition,” Clara answered. “I have the messages.”
Mother started crying again.
“You’re choosing her over your own sister?”
Clara’s expression hardened.
“I’m choosing honesty.”
The restaurant manager approached, concerned about the shouting.
Clara lowered her voice.
“We’re leaving.”
As we walked away, Jason shouted after us.
“You’ll regret turning
