They thought this was revenge for a comment, but this was not revenge, this was an audit.
After leaving La Belle Rive that night, I had gone home and pulled out a plastic folder from my closet labeled Family Documents.
For years my father and brother had pushed papers toward me and told me to sign for tax efficiency or to build my credit.
I had trusted them without reading carefully, believing they were including me in their financial world.
That night I sat on the floor with coffee and read every page.
The cabin at Lake Crescent was not partially in my name, it was solely titled to Alyssa Grant.
It had been transferred during a lawsuit years earlier to protect it, and the title had never been moved back.
The joint credit line Kyle used for his flashy business expenses listed me as the primary applicant, not him.
My mother’s favorite spending account listed me as the primary holder with them as authorized users.
Page after page revealed that I was not the struggling afterthought they portrayed, I was the financial shield that allowed them to live comfortably.
They mocked my modest apartment while hiding assets and liabilities under my name.