Chapter 4 - THE BATTLE LINES ARE DRAWN
The fallout began at 8:00 a.m. on Boxing Day.
My phone started buzzing before I even had my contacts in. Missed calls from my mother, three text messages from my aunt Linda asking if the rumors about a "family civil war" were true, and a blistering voice message from Ryan calling me a "sociopath."
I blocked Ryan, Brooke, and my mother within three minutes.
It was liberating. For the first time in my adult life, my phone was entirely mine. No guilt-tripping texts, no passive-aggressive family group chats where my achievements were ignored while Ryan’s mediocre dad-jokes were praised like scripture.
I spent Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday in absolute bliss. I slept in until nine, read a novel by the window while the snow finally began to fall in earnest, and ordered Thai food without consulting anyone’s dietary restrictions or allergy lists.
On Friday morning, however, my peaceful solitude was interrupted by a sharp knock at my apartment door.
I frowned, peeking through the peephole.
It wasn't a delivery driver. It was my cousin Sarah—my mother’s younger sister’s daughter, who usually stayed neutral in all family dramas.
I opened the door a crack, keeping the security chain latched.
"Sarah? What are you doing here?"
Sarah looked exhausted, her cheeks pink from the bitter cold, clutching her woolen coat tightly around her neck. "Clara, please let me in. It’s a madhouse at your parents' house, and you need to know what’s going on."
I unlatched the chain and pulled her inside, immediately wrapping my hands around her frozen fingers and leading her to the kitchen to pour her a mug of hot tea.
"Calm down, take a breath," I said, handing her the mug. "What’s happening?"
Sarah blew on the steam, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You completely nuked the family solar system, Clara. I’m serious. Mom and Aunt Martha haven't stopped yelling for three days."
"Why? Because I said no to babysitting?"
"No," Sarah said grimly. "Because Ryan and Brooke’s cruise leaves tomorrow morning, and they still don't have childcare."
I blinked. "Wait. They didn't cancel the cruise?"
"Cancel it? Are you kidding?" Sarah scoffed. "They spent six thousand dollars on non-refundable first-class tickets and a balcony suite. Brooke has been posting countdowns on Instagram for four months. They tried to hire a professional nanny service on Tuesday, but every agency in Columbus is booked solid for the holidays. So, yesterday, your mother tried to step in."
I raised an eyebrow. "Mom? Babysitting seven-year-old twins for six days?"
"Oh, absolutely not," Sarah said, rolling her eyes. "Aunt Martha’s bridge club schedule and her sciatica could never. Instead, your mother tried to draft me."
I stared at her. "They tried to make you babysit?"
"Attempted to," Sarah corrected. "Aunt Martha called my mom on Wednesday morning demanding that I clear my entire work schedule for the week—I work remote in graphic design, so apparently my job doesn't count—and move into Ryan’s house to raise the twins while they go parasailing in Cozumel."
"And what did you say?"
"I laughed so hard I hung up on her," Sarah said, taking a sip of her tea with a triumphant grin. "Then Mom called Aunt Martha back and told her where she could shove her authoritarian demands. That’s when total war broke out."
I couldn't help it—a laugh burst out of my chest. "You’re kidding."
"I wish I were," Sarah said, leaning forward. "Ryan smashed a lamp in the living room yesterday because Brooke threatened to divorce him if he couldn't find a way out of the childcare bind. And guess what else?"
"What?"
"They found out about your bank account."
My smile vanished instantly. "My bank account? What are you talking about?"
Sarah’s expression turned dead serious. "Clara... do you remember when Dad helped you set up your high-yield savings account three years ago when you got that promotion?"
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A cold knot formed in my stomach. "Yes... Dad and I went to the local credit union together. It's my personal account. My name is the only one on it."
"Not according to Aunt Martha," Sarah whispered. "Your mother was bragging at Thanksgiving last year about how she 'made sure' she had emergency secondary access to all her children's accounts 'just in case of financial irresponsibility.' Ryan has been trying to access your online banking portal to see if he can drain your savings to pay for a private live-in nanny service for the week."
