I typed back, “I’m not happy or sad. I’m just done.”
Another text came through.
“You always were selfish. This is typical Angela, making everything about herself.”
The irony was rich. I blocked her number.
Over the next week, the calls continued. Mom left voicemails begging me to come to family therapy. Dad sent emails about working through this as a family. Kristen oscillated between apologetic texts from Brandon’s phone and angry messages from her own. I ignored all of them and contacted Kenneth Morrison.
“They had legal access to the account,” he confirmed after reviewing the documentation, “but we can make their lives uncomfortable if you want to pursue this. The court of public opinion might be interested in parents who raided their daughter’s savings.”
“No,” I decided. “That’s not worth it. I want to ensure they can never access anything of mine again. Can we do that?”
“Absolutely. I’ll draft a cease and desist. Plus, we’ll put alerts on your credit. If they try to open anything in your name, you’ll know within 10 days.”
My parents received formal legal notice that any further access to my financial accounts would be considered theft and prosecuted accordingly. The letter also demanded they remove themselves as custodians from the original account and transfer the remaining funds to an account solely in my name.
Dad called from an unknown number, getting past my blocks.
“A lawyer, Angela? Really? You’re threatening your own parents with legal action.”
“You stole from me. What did you expect?”
“We didn’t steal. We borrowed for your sister’s future.”
“Without my permission. That’s theft, Dad. Dress it up however you want.”
“When did you become so cold?”
The question actually made me laugh, bitter and sharp.
“I became this way after years of watching you choose Kristen over me and pretending not to notice. I became this way when I realized that protecting myself was the only option because my own family wouldn’t.”
He hung up.
Three weeks after the dinner, Kristen showed up at my office. Security called before letting her up, and I considered refusing. Curiosity won. She looked tired, makeup not quite concealing the dark circles under her eyes.
“We need to talk.”
“I’m working.”
“Angela, please. Five minutes.”
Against my better judgment, I led her to a conference room.
“What do you want, Kristen?”
“To apologize. I was awful at that dinner. The things I said about you not having anyone, about not having any money left, that was cruel.”
“It was honest. You’ve always thought less of me.”
She flinched.
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? You’ve spent our entire lives accepting everything Mom and Dad gave you while looking down on me for having less. You’ve made comments about my car, my apartment, my clothes. You’ve introduced me to your friends as my little sister who’s still figuring things out, even though I have a successful career in data analysis.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. You meant all of it. Just like you meant it when you took my savings without a second thought.”
“That was Mom and Dad’s decision, not mine.”
“But you benefited from it and you mocked me for it. You stood in their dining room and laughed at me for being broke.”
I crossed my arms.
“Now you know I’m not broke, and suddenly you want to apologize. That’s not remorse, Kristen. That’s embarrassment.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Fine. You want the truth? Yes, I’m embarrassed. Brandon’s father asked where we got the down payment. And when Brandon told him, Mr. Patterson lost his mind. He called it entitled and inappropriate. He’s barely speaking to us now.”
“So you’re here because your father-in-law thinks you’re spoiled, not because you actually feel bad for what you did to me.”
“I do feel bad.”
“No, you feel bad about the consequences. There’s a difference.”
I stood.
“We’re done here. Go home to your dream house and enjoy it. But we’re done pretending to be sisters who care about each other.”
“Angela, you can’t mean that. We’re a family.”
