When I turned the handle, Ryan stood there, flushed with anger, the vein in his neck visible. Vanessa hovered behind him, gripping her phone tightly.
“What’s going on?” I asked calmly, though I already knew.
“You embarrassed us!” Ryan snapped. “We were at the supermarket checkout and the card didn’t work. Vanessa said you changed the password!”
He exhaled sharply.
“Do you know how humiliating that was?”
Vanessa stepped forward dramatically.
“I’m the one trying to keep the household running,” she said. “But your mother likes controlling everything.”
That hurt.
Not because of Vanessa.
Because Ryan believed it so quickly.
Still, I kept my voice steady.
“Come inside,” I told them. “Sit down.”
Ryan entered like a storm ready to break. Vanessa glanced around the living room as if expecting proof that I was secretly wealthy.
On the table sat a gray folder I had prepared that morning. Inside were printed bank statements, screenshots, and a list of purchases.
Ryan pointed at it.
“What’s that?”
“Something you refused to look at for weeks,” I replied.
Vanessa laughed lightly.
“Oh please, Patricia. Are you about to give us a financial lecture?”
I slid the first page toward them.
A clothing store purchase—$720.