At a family gathering, my mom slammed her hand on the table. “Look at your sister! She sends us $4,000 every month! You’re such an ungrateful daughter!”

But my silence was intentional now. I didn’t answer anything. I let her sit in the consequences she had created.

Three months after the payments stopped, my parents summoned us for another “family discussion.” Same dining table, same tense air—but this time, their fury wasn’t aimed at me.

“We saw your bank statements,” my father roared. He’d gone through her mail. “You claimed the money came from your business. You were using Mara’s account the entire time!”
Sena crumbled. “I—I was going to fix it. I just—”

I stepped in smoothly. “Dad. Mom. Please let her explain.”

She looked at me with pleading eyes. She fully expected me to rescue her, the way I always had.