Buck Around, Whine Out

It was the day before my wedding. My mother suddenly demanded that I hand over my bank card and announced, "Erik still needs another 50,000 dollars for the house, Vicky. Why don't you help him cover the rest for now?" I stared at her in disbelief. "Wait. Haven't I been helping pay that off for over eight years? How is there still 50,000 dollars left?" My mother avoided my gaze. "Interest rates are high these days, Vicky." I pulled up my banking app. I had been transferring 2000 dollars every month! How had that not made a dent in the debt? Something definitely smelled fishy. Ever since I graduated, my mother had told me I needed to help pay off the mortgage because, in her words, it had to be a family effort. Erik was still young and didn't have a stable income, she said. Thus, every month, as soon as I got paid, I had to transfer a set amount to my mother's account. I had been doing that for eight years. Because of those payments, I never had enough disposable income to buy jewelry or accessories. I could never bring myself to quit my job or take an extended leave of absence. I couldn't even bring myself to tell my boyfriend that I was still helping pay off my brother's debt. "You're his sister, Vicky. You're family! Blood is thicker than water, right? Even after you get married, that won't change. We'll always be on your side," my mother insisted. After everything I had contributed, I honestly believed I had a claim to the house too. At least, I did until today. By chance, I found Erik's folder in the living room. Inside was the property deed. I glanced at it and froze. My brother was the sole owner of the house.