Chapter 3

On the drive home, Lauren finally told me what she'd promised.

"Brittany's family expects a ring and an engagement package worth about $55,000. They're looking at a starter condo in the Lakeside district, right around $220,000. Add the wedding and the reception, and we need to have roughly $300,000 ready."

She glanced over.

"Daniel, how much do we have saved?"

I leaned back in the passenger seat.

"How much do you have saved?"

Her voice shot up.

"Why are you asking about my savings? I don't even have a job. Obviously you make more than I do."

I laughed without any humor in it.

"So he's your only brother, but you don't want to spend a dollar of your own money on him. Some sister."

She had nothing to say to that. She glared at me, then finally muttered, "Maybe thirty-five thousand."

I gave her $4,000 every month.

Four years of marriage, and she had thirty-five thousand.

In those same four years I'd bought Kyle a car. Whenever her parents needed help with appointments or repairs or bills, I was the first call.

My own parents dropped off groceries almost every week. I ate most weekday meals at the office.

There was no way Lauren was spending $4,000 a month on food and household basics.

So where had it gone?

She loved playing the generous big sister, and the bill always disappeared into a bottomless pit.

"Oh, and after the wedding they want to honeymoon in Europe," she added. "That's another twenty or thirty thousand. Plus Brittany's jewelry.

"Three hundred thousand probably isn't enough."

I finally snapped.

"Is Kyle your brother or your son?"

Her expression hardened.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means your parents brought him into the world and then stopped. He's a grown man. Why is their son getting married on his brother-in-law's money?

"I don't owe Kyle a wedding."

I looked straight at her.

"Our savings are for Ethan. Nobody else is touching them."

She exploded behind the wheel.

I told her to pull over, got out, called a rideshare, and left while she shouted my name after me.

That night she went back to ignoring me. I returned the favor.

A few days later, she showed up at my office.

"Kyle's engagement dinner is tomorrow and I'm short. Transfer me fifteen thousand."

"No."

Her eyes widened.

"What did you say?"

"I said no."

I kept my voice flat.

"Kyle isn't my son. If you make a scene here, I'll have security walk you out."

I turned and left, then told reception not to let her past the lobby again.

My company wasn't a place she could wander into whenever she felt like it. Whatever she wanted to scream about, she'd have to think twice first.

Gary called next, tired of waiting.

I gave him one sentence.

"He's your son, not mine."

Then I hung up. He could be as angry as he liked.

Kyle's engagement went ahead anyway. I attended.

I contributed nothing. Congratulations cost nothing, so I handed out plenty of those.

Then Lauren shocked me.

She produced the entire $55,000 her brother needed.

Patricia beamed at Brittany.

"Our Kyle is a lucky man. His sister looks after him, and she always will. Once you marry into this family, you'll never go without."

Something in my chest went tight.

I turned to look at Lauren. She wore a small, satisfied smile, like everything was going exactly to plan.

It made no sense.

She'd told me she had about thirty-five thousand available. How was she going to cover a wedding and housing package worth three hundred thousand?

She had no job.

She couldn't touch my savings.

So had she borrowed it?

The thought hit hard enough that I made an excuse and left early.

The second I got home, I started tearing through drawers looking for the deed and the property file.

They were gone.

My stomach dropped.

I took our marriage certificate and my ID and drove straight to the bank.

The answer felt like a punch to the chest.

"Mr. Hart, an application was submitted three days ago for a $350,000 home equity loan against this property."