I was in an online meeting when an unknown number flashed on my screen. I muted, accepted, and held the phone to my ear. Sniffles came through first, then a broken voice.
“Sis. It’s me.”
My brother sounded wrecked. I stepped into the hallway, closed the door. “How did you get this number?”
“Borrowed a friend’s phone. Please don’t hang up.” He drew a shaky breath. “Everything fell apart.”
His wife lied about the deals. The energy drink contract? “Flop,” he said. “They wanted five posts a week—viral challenges. Her first video got ten thousand views. Then nothing. Brand pulled after thirty days. We spent the advance on rent for a bigger place, thinking more would roll in.”
Silence stretched. I pictured him pacing wherever he hid now. “Credit cards maxed,” he continued. “$18,000 between three accounts—interest piling. She said we’d pay minimums until the next gig.”
“I shifted the phone. “And?”
“Caught her with the manager last week. Hotel receipts, texts. She admitted it—said I was holding her back. Too dependent. Packed a bag, left me with the lease and bills.”