The following day, we sat across from each other at the same kitchen table, the documents sprawled between us like a battlefield map. My brother wore that same calm expression, but I noticed his hands fidgeting with the edge of a paper. « Mom’s account was redirected for her own good, » he began, not meeting my eyes. I frowned, flipping through the statements. « Without telling me? I manage her healthcare. We agreed on transparency, » I countered, my voice barely above a whisper, trying not to let the frustration seep through.
« It was necessary, » he insisted, finally looking up. His gaze was steady, calculated. « The funds are safe, just moved for better management. » The explanation was too neat, too prepared. Yet I didn’t have the evidence to refute him, just a gut feeling that something was amiss.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
