“Privately,” I repeated, and a low laugh escaped me, sharp and tired. “Where family?”
My father, silent for most of dinner, finally spoke. His voice was flat. “You don’t need to involve the police.”
I turned to him slowly. “You knew,” I said.
It wasn’t even a question. It was a conclusion.
My father’s eyes flicked away.
That silence hit harder than anything else.
They knew.
Not all the details, maybe, but enough. Enough to look at Cass’s sudden wealth and not ask questions. Enough to suspect and choose not to see. Enough to protect her from consequences and leave me holding the bag.
My chest burned. Not with hate. With betrayal so deep it felt like it had roots.
“You all thought I was too quiet,” I said, looking around the table. “Too focused. Too boring to notice. You forgot I’m the one who checks the numbers.”
Cass reached out toward me like her hand could rewind time. “I’ll pay it back,” she blurted. “I promise.”
“With what?” I asked, my voice steady. “Your fake real estate job? The influencer career you built on lies?”
Cass’s face twisted. “It’s not fake.”
“It’s funded,” I corrected. “By me.”
My mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Sweetheart, please. She made a mistake.”