Chapter 1

On the most important day of my life, my parents took the wedding fund I had spent two years saving up, and bought my brother, Brian Sloan, a brand‑new car with it. They destroyed my wedding, all so they could keep leeching off me, guilt‑free.

They took it for granted that I'd keep swallowing my pride and working myself to the bone for them, as I had for the past eight years.

But they were dead wrong.

From then on, we were strangers.

For the rest of my life, don't dream of getting a single dollar from me.

*****

On payday, I spent the whole morning glued to my phone, waiting for that deposit to hit.

I'd been working on a new project for three straight nights without sleep, and my performance and attendance were maxed out. This month I'd pocket 11,500 dollars.

Once I paid the 1,300 dollars for rent and utilities, I still had over 10,200 dollars. These were my stash and my security after months of grinding. In ten days, I would marry Sophie Hanson.

Finally, my phone buzzed. But it wasn't the deposit notification I'd been waiting for. It was a bank alert about a huge deduction.

My fingers went numb, my chest tightened, and I almost forgot to breathe. I kept staring at that text, reading it over and over. [Expenditure: $10,000, Balance: $1082.85.]

My 11,500-dollar paycheck had barely hit my account before 10,000 dollars was gone, leaving me with over 1,000 dollars.

My mom had my bank card. The year I graduated, she took my hand with tears in her eyes and said young people couldn't be trusted with money, so she'd keep it safe for me.

She promised she'd return every penny, plus interest, when I got married. I believed her, and three years went by like that.

The password was my birthday. She remembered it better than I did. She'd withdraw money whenever she wanted, without so much as a heads-up.

Honestly, I never minded it much before.

She'd always withdraw 6,000 dollars the day after payday. She claimed it was for her and Dad's retirement, but I knew most of it was plugging the holes Brian kept making.

Brian'd spent eight years at home, always saying he was prepping for some government job, but he'd never made a single dollar. His rent, bills, food... Everything was covered by the money I sent back every month.

But this month, my mom didn't withdraw 6,000 as usual. She helped herself to 10,000 dollars.

Thankfully, the 100,000 dollars I'd scrimped and saved for my wedding weren't in that card. I'd opened a separate account for that, and that card never left my wallet. Also, I never shared the password with anyone.

After receiving the notification, I thought I'd better ask, so I texted my mom. [Mom, why did you take an extra 4,000 dollars this month?]

It took her nearly half an hour to reply, and her message was so cheerful that she could barely contain herself. [Brian's results are out. He got into the civil service.

[It's a classified position. Only he is allowed to check the results. We're throwing a party, so we borrowed your money for now, and I'll pay you back in a couple of days.]

Before I could reply, her next message came through, without guilt or something. [Oh, Brian's about to start his new job. He needs a proper suit, has to prepare some gifts for his new colleagues, and we need a down payment for a new car.

[So, we are still short 30,000 dollars. Didn't you spend two years saving up for your wedding? Transfer 30,000 dollars now. Once Brian starts getting paid, he'll pay you back, including everything we borrowed before."

I stared at the screen, my mind went blank, and I felt my blood boiling.

So that 10,000 dollars wasn't the end. They'd already been eyeing the savings I'd spent two years building up.

My fingers shook as I typed out line after line, only to delete them again. All that anger bubbling up inside me ended up as a humble, pleading message. [Mom, I'm getting married in ten days. You and Dad know that, right?

[Sophie's parents and I already agreed. I need to save 150,000 dollars for the wedding, and I can't be short a dollar. The 10,000 dollars you took this month will be the last time I pay for Brian.

[Please try not to spend so much and don't ask me for more right now. Let me have enough to get through the wedding smoothly, alright?]

She didn't respond.

I sent another message. [Sophie is Harvey and Mona's only daughter. If anything goes wrong at the wedding, I won't know how to explain it to her or her parents.]

This time, she shot back right away, with an indifferent tone. [I'll pay you back in a couple of days.]

After that, she went silent.

I stared at the screen, my fingers cold. For three years, they'd taken nearly 250 thousand dollars from me, never once saying thank you, never asking if I had enough to get by, or if working overtime was wearing me out.

I kept telling myself that once Brian got a job, things would get better. I thought they would at least understand that getting married was the biggest thing in my life, and that 100 thousand dollars was my bottom line.

What really scared me wasn't them spending my money. It was that, deep down, they assumed everything I had was supposed to help Brian get ahead.