I lay in the dark with my phone and felt something cold settle over me.
In the morning I confronted them.
My father told me I had not won anything. He said the ticket was a fake, that I had misread the numbers, that I was embarrassing myself. My mother stood behind him and nodded with the expression of someone who has agreed to hold a position regardless of what the other person says.
When I said I had seen the transaction on my account, when I said I knew they had transferred money using my identity, my father’s voice changed. He stopped being the person managing a confused daughter and became something harder and more direct.
He told me I was a liar.
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