For a moment, there was silence.
Then laughter.
Actual laughter.
My sister smirked first.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be so dramatic.”
My father shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“We thought you knew.”
“Knew what?” I asked, my voice flat.
“That we were helping,” my mother cut in, her tone soft, condescending. “You’re always away, Jenny. You don’t have time to manage money. You don’t understand these things. It’s not your world.”
I felt the words hit me like cold steel.
Not your world.
“We weren’t stealing,” my father added, waving his hand as if brushing away a harmless misunderstanding. “We were safeguarding, keeping it in the family.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do with that kind of money anyway.”
I stared at them, at the faces that used to tuck me in at night, at the hands that once held mine to cross the street.
“You think I can lead combat missions?” I said quietly. “But you don’t think I can manage a bank account.”
My sister gave a small laugh.
