Chapter 3

"The health center only has a record of him checking in a little after four in the afternoon. Nobody remembers whether he was still there after seven."

Trent glanced at the statement. The charge had gone through at 7:32 p.m.

The light that had just returned to Luke's eyes dimmed again.

"I passed out that afternoon. Does it make sense that I'd leave the health center and go shopping?"

"You could have paid online," Victor said, as gentle as ever. "Luke, if you don't want to admit it, there's no need to shift the blame onto me."

'The supplementary card is in his name. If I make the evidence look a little more real, Dad won't dig any further.'

My fingertips went cold.

No wonder Victor was so sure of himself. These records really couldn't fully clear Luke's name.

Trent spoke in a low voice. "Take out your phone. Your shopping history, your messages, your payment apps. Open all of them."

The last bit of color drained from Luke's face. "Whatever. Check all you want."

He slammed the phone down on the table and unlocked it.

Trent scrolled through it page by page. There was nothing.

Victor sighed. "Deleting the records is perfectly normal. Luke, if you're really short on money, you don't have to play these games. I'll take care of you."

"Why would I delete anything?"

Luke's head jerked up, his eyes blazing with a fire he couldn't hold back.

"Why would I delete something I never did?"

"Because you don't want Dad to find out."

"Shut up!" Luke slammed his fist on the table. "Victor, stop pretending to be the good guy!"

"Enough!" Trent cut in, his face cold. "Is that how you talk to your brother?"

Luke suddenly laughed, though his eyes were red. "See? It's always like this. Everything I say is wrong, and you believe everything he says."

'He only brought me back to fulfill Mom's dying wish. Nobody actually cares whether I'm doing okay.'

Trent's expression stiffened for an instant.

'I gave him the best school, the best place to live, and more money than anyone, and he still blames me for losing him.'

In the middle of the standoff, I noticed a slip of paper tucked inside Luke's phone case and pulled it out. "What's this?"

Luke's face changed. "Give that back."

It was a pay stub from a part-time job. Last month, he'd washed cars and done odd jobs at an auto repair shop, earning one thousand three hundred twenty dollars in total.

The back was crammed with handwritten expenses: cafeteria card, bus fare, course materials, medicine.

The last line read: Remaining: 102 dollars.

Trent stared at the paper, his voice hoarse. "You've been working a part-time job? Does this family need that little bit of money?"

Luke snatched the paper back. "The family doesn't. I do.

"When I was down to my last hundred dollars, do you know how I got by?"

Trent frowned. "If you were short on money, why didn't you say something?"

"I did."

Luke looked at Victor. "You told me to go to him. He said he'd set up a card for me and manage my account."

The smile on Victor's face finally faded.

'How does he still remember that? He never even touched that supplementary card. How could he know I've been using it this whole time?'

I heard every word. But I could only look at Victor as if nothing had happened.

"Mr. Victor, you said the supplementary card was for Mr. Luke's convenience. So where was Mr. Luke when the last in-person purchase was made?"

"How would I remember that?"

"There's a timestamp on the statement."

I pointed to the order on Trent's phone. "September 16th, 7:32 p.m. The shipping address isn't the Schur house, and it isn't the school either."

The assistant checked, and his face changed right away. "Mr. Schur, the address is... an apartment registered under Mr. Victor's name."

Trent slowly raised his eyes.

Victor was quick to explain. "Luke used to refuse to come home. It's normal for his things to be shipped to my place."

"Is that so?" I pressed on. "Then what about the contact number on the order?"

The assistant's voice dropped even lower. "That's also Mr. Victor's number."

Victor finally couldn't keep his composure. "Fred."

He glared at me, his voice icy. "Aren't you talking a little too much today for a driver?"

"I just want to get the accounts straight."

"Are you interrogating me?"

"No." I met his gaze. "But if Mr. Luke really spent this money, why is every detail for the delivery, the contact, and the confirmation yours?"

Luke let out a soft laugh. "Now you know what it feels like to be suspected."

Victor lunged at him. "Don't push your luck!"

I immediately stepped in front of Luke. "Mr. Victor, keep your hands to yourself."

Victor shoved me aside. My knee slammed into the table, and I sucked in a sharp breath from the pain.

Luke froze for a moment, then stepped in front of me. "Why are you laying a hand on him?"

In the scuffle, Victor's phone fell to the floor. The screen lit up, and a message popped up.

[Mr. Victor Schur, please confirm the final payment you made using Luke Schur's account as soon as possible.]

Trent snorted coldly and called the finance department.

"Pull a full year of transaction records for every account in Luke's name.

"For every transaction, I want the person who actually made it, the receiving account, and the merchant address. Send it all to me within half an hour.

"Do it now."