My brother stole my ATM card and emptied my entire account. Then he kicked me out of the house, saying, “Your job is done, we got what we wanted.” The worst part was that my parents laughed as if it had all been part of a plan.

I glanced at my phone and saw three missed calls from a private number. As I stepped out into the dark, I realized that while they thought they had ruined me, the bank was already hunting them down.

PART 2

I spent the night huddled in the driver’s seat of my car, parked behind a grocery store. Sleep was impossible because every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father’s cold stare and heard the sound of my suitcase hitting the porch.

At precisely eleven seventeen, my phone vibrated against the console. I snatched it up immediately.

“Am I speaking with Miss Alana Vance?” a professional voice asked.

“Yes, this is she,” I replied, my voice hoarse.

“This is Maureen Higgins from the Fraud Prevention Division at National Security Bank. We have flagged a series of high-risk withdrawals and a large external transfer on your primary accounts.”

She paused for a second before continuing. “We need to verify if you authorized transactions totaling over thirty-seven thousand dollars today.”

“No, I didn’t authorize anything,” I said firmly. “My brother stole my card and my access codes.”