“Stop exaggerating. Call a ride. You live here for free, you eat here, you use everything. The least you can do is share the car with your brother.”
Emily froze.
“Free?” she repeated slowly.
For a moment, the word didn’t even hurt. It just stunned her.
“I’ve been paying the mortgage for three years,” she said, her voice steadier now. “Since Dad retired and you stopped working. I cover the bills. Electricity, internet, water—and Jason’s credit card.”
Frank tossed a rag onto the table.
“No one forced you,” he snapped. “You chose to stay here.”
The lie hit harder than anything else. Memories flooded back—nights when they had begged her, saying they might lose the house, that they needed her, that family had to stick together. She had stepped in, believing she was helping hold everything together.
Now she saw it clearly.
She had been carrying them.
Jason appeared in the hallway, half-awake, hair messy. He walked in casually, grabbed the sandwich Rebecca had made, and started eating. In his other hand, he spun Emily’s car keys, a smirk on his face.
“Relax, Em,” he said. “I’ll bring it back later.”