“Karen, you need to be reasonable about this,” Dad started, not even bothering with a greeting. “The sooner you agree to split the inheritance, the easier this will be for everyone.”
The casual arrogance in his voice made my blood boil. “Easier for whom? For Sarah?”
“For you. For all of us,” Mom chimed in. I was on speakerphone. “You don’t want this to get messy, dear.”
“When?” The word came out as barely more than a whisper. “When did you know about them?”
There was a pause—the kind of hesitation that tells you everything you need to know before a word is spoken.
“We… we’ve known for a while,” Mom finally admitted. “James confided in us about six months before—well, before the accident.”
The timeline hit me like a physical blow. Six months. They’d known for six months and still let me cry on their shoulders at his funeral, still accepted my money every month while knowing what he and Sarah had done.
“Traitors.” The word fell cold and final on my tongue. “All of you.”
I hung up and blocked their numbers. My hands shook as I opened my banking app, but I didn’t hesitate to cancel the monthly transfer to their account. Let them ask their precious Sarah for money.