Chapter 6 - The Audit of Indebtedness
The living room descended into complete, suffocating silence.
Dad looked down at the top paper, reading the printed text messages from my mother. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Aunt Carol turned bright red and suddenly found the carpet very interesting. Brittany looked around the room frantically, trying to figure out who had leaked the messages.
"Courtney," Brittany hissed, her eyes darting toward the hallway. "That snake sent you this!"
"Courtney has a conscience," Ethan interjected, his voice deep and authoritative. "Something the rest of you clearly traded away a long time ago."
Mom set her wine glass on the side table with a shaky hand. "Megan... group chats are private venting spaces. People say things they don't mean when they're stressed—"
"Save it, Susan," I snapped, stepping closer to the table. "I didn't come here to argue about your country club tour. I came here to deliver a final accounting."
I tapped the stack of papers I had placed on the table.
"For the past ten years, I have acted as the uncredited financial cushion for this entire family," I said. "I kept quiet because I thought we were a unit. I thought helping family was what loving families did. But last night, I did a full forensic audit of every dollar I’ve spent on the Hayes family since I turned twenty-two."
I picked up the top sheet and began reading aloud.
"Item one: $24,000 sent over three years for the kitchen renovation that Mom promised to repay when Dad's pension kicked in. Unpaid."
"Item two: $12,500 for Brittany’s auto accident settlement and raised insurance premiums when she was uninsured. Unpaid."
"Item three: $8,400 in cell phone lines, streaming services, and shared cloud storage paid over seven years for Brittany, Carol, and Mom. Unpaid."
"Item four: $5,000 for Aunt Carol's cruise deposit two years ago when she promised to transfer her share 'next Tuesday.' Unpaid."
I looked up from the paper, my eyes sweeping across their pale faces.
"The total amount of money I have gifted to this family over the past decade is $49,900," I said clearly. "That does not include the interest I could have earned if that money had been sitting in my daughter’s college fund."
May you like
"We are your parents!" Dad shouted, his face turning purple with indignation. "We sacrificed everything to raise you! You don't hand your parents a bill!"
"I’m not handing you a bill, Dad," I said, leaning over the table. "I'm letting you know that the debt has been settled in full. You spent my kindness, my patience, and my love. And yesterday, when you made my six-year-old daughter cry over six empty chairs, you officially ran out of credit."
