At 3:47 am my father summoned me for “a family emergency,” but when I saw the red convertible in the driveway and they asked for access to my accounts, I understood that they didn’t want to help me… they wanted to keep everything for themselves.

“We need access to your bank accounts today, Kelsey, because this isn’t a suggestion and it is for your own benefit.” My father’s text message had jolted me awake at 3:47 in the morning with a command to be at the family gathering by 10:00 sharp.

My father never communicated like that since he was usually a man of brief phone calls and long, heavy silences. A message sent before the sun was even up could only mean that something massive was happening and I knew it would not be in my favor.

At 9:55, I pulled my Honda Civic into the driveway of the house where I grew up in an expensive neighborhood of Scottsdale. Everything looked exactly the same from the white walls to the purple flowers, but there was a new addition to the circular driveway.

A red Mercedes convertible sat there with a shine that looked like desperate luxury hiding behind temporary license plates. My sister Brianna could not afford a vehicle like that on her own income.

My mother opened the door before I could even knock on the wood. “Come in, honey,” she said with a smile that felt far too sweet as she told me they were waiting in the office.