Chapter 4
I drove home from lunch with Aunt Melissa and sat in my driveway for twenty minutes.
I couldn’t make myself go inside.
Forty thousand dollars.
That number kept repeating in my head.
Three years earlier, I had been one semester from graduation.
My financial aid package changed unexpectedly.
I needed $3,800.
I called Dad.
I remembered the conversation perfectly.
“We don’t have that kind of money lying around.”
“I can pay you back.”
“Paige, we already told you college was your choice.”
“I’m almost done.”
“Then figure it out.”
So I did.
I picked up weekend shifts.
Sold my laptop and bought a cheaper used one.
Put tuition on a high-interest payment plan.
Skipped visiting home for Thanksgiving because I could not afford gasoline.
And during that same period, my parents handed Trevor forty thousand dollars.
For a business.
“What business?” Riley asked that night.
“No idea.”
We were sitting at my kitchen table with the statements between us.
“Did he have a business?”
“Not that I knew.”
“What was he doing three years ago?”
I thought.
“Working at the warehouse.”
“Maybe he planned one.”
“Maybe.”
But something bothered me.
Trevor had never mentioned starting a company.
He mentioned everything.
New shoes.
New girlfriend.
New television.
A business would have been family history.
My parents would have celebrated it for months.
I called Melissa.
“Do you know what Trevor’s business was?”
“No.”
“Did Dad say?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Her voice became uneasy.
“That it didn’t work out.”
I stared at the statement.
Forty thousand dollars doesn’t simply vanish.
At least not in my world.
Then Riley pointed to another line.
“Look.”
A payment from the same account.
Fifteen thousand.
To Capital Premier.
Three months after the transfer to Trevor.
“Credit card?”
“Probably.”
We kept reading.
My parents had been cleaning up Trevor’s financial mess for years.
Vehicle debt.
Personal loans.
Credit cards.
Cash transfers.
Whenever he fell, they paid.
Whenever I struggled, they called it independence.
I felt stupid for not seeing it.
Then I corrected myself.
I had never been shown the evidence.
That mattered.
The next morning, Dad appeared outside my office building.
I saw him from the lobby.
He was waiting near my car.
I turned around and asked security to walk me out.
Dad looked shocked when the guard accompanied me.
“Seriously?”
I stopped several feet away.
“You called my office after I told you not to.”
“I needed to talk.”
“You keep needing to talk when money is involved.”
His face changed.
“You talked to Melissa.”
Not a question.
“Yes.”
He cursed under his breath.
“She had no right.”
“You asked her for money.”
“That’s private.”
“So was my salary.”
He stared at me.
“Paige, your mother and I are struggling.”
I said nothing.
“We made some investments.”
“In Trevor?”
His jaw tightened.
“It’s complicated.”
“How complicated?”
“He had opportunities.”
“Forty thousand dollars’ worth?”
Dad looked around.
“Can we do this somewhere private?”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“You don’t understand what it’s like having a son trying to build something.”
That sentence hit me strangely.
“A son.”
“What?”
“You said a son.”
“Don’t turn this into a gender thing.”
“I didn’t.”
He had.
I stared at him.
“When I was building something, you called it my choice.”
“You were getting a degree.”
“Exactly.”
“Trevor was trying to create a business.”
“What business?”
Dad looked away.
There it was again.
“What business, Dad?”
“He was investing.”
“In what?”
“Cryptocurrency.”
I almost laughed.
“You gave him forty thousand dollars to gamble on cryptocurrency?”
“It wasn’t gambling.”
“Did he lose it?”
Dad stayed silent.
I nodded.
“Then you gave him another twenty-five thousand?”
“He needed help.”
“And now you need help.”
Dad looked at me.
“We might lose the house.”
My anger disappeared for one second.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“We took out a home-equity loan.”
“For Trevor?”
“For several things.”
“How much?”
“Paige.”
“How much?”
His voice dropped.
“One hundred and twenty thousand.”
I felt dizzy.
My childhood home.
The house my parents had owned for twenty-seven years.
Nearly paid off.
They had borrowed against it.
“For what?”
“Debt.”
“Whose?”
He said nothing.
I already knew.
“Trevor’s.”
“Some of it.”
“How much?”
“Most.”
I looked away.
The security guard shifted nearby.
Dad’s voice softened.
“We made mistakes.”
“Yes.”
“We need help.”
I looked back at him.
“You want me to save the house.”
He didn’t answer.
“You actually came to my workplace because you want me to fix this.”
“We’re not asking for everything.”
“How much?”
“Maybe thirty thousand to start.”
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
Dad looked offended.
“What’s funny?”
“When I needed $3,800 to finish college, you didn’t have money.”
“That was different.”
“Of course it was.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No, Dad.”
I stepped closer.
“I understand perfectly.”
My voice shook.
“Trevor’s mistakes were investments. Mine were choices.”
He looked down.
“His failures were emergencies. My achievements were hobbies.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s exactly fair.”
His eyes filled with anger.
“If we lose that house, will you be happy?”
The manipulation landed exactly where he intended.
For a second, I felt like the cruel daughter.
Then I remembered something Professor Hart once taught us.
Numbers don’t become different because you dislike what they say.
Facts were facts.
My parents made those decisions.
Not me.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I won’t be happy.”
Dad’s expression softened with hope.
“But I won’t pay for it.”
His face hardened.
“Paige.”
“No.”
“We’re your parents.”
“Yes.”
“And that doesn’t make me responsible for your debt.”
He stared at me with disbelief.
Then he said,
“Trevor would help us.”
I looked directly at him.
“Then ask Trevor.”
Dad left without saying goodbye.
That evening, Mom sent me a letter.
Actual paper.
Three pages.
She described losing the house where Trevor and I grew up.
Our Christmas mornings.
My bedroom.
The backyard.
Dad teaching me to ride a bicycle.
Every sentence aimed at one place.
Guilt.
Then came the final paragraph.
We never imagined our own daughter would watch us lose everything when she had the ability to help.
I read it twice.
Then I placed it in a drawer.
Two days later, I received a call from Trevor.
Not asking for money.
Not insulting me.
His voice sounded frightened.
“Paige.”
“What?”
“I need to tell you something about Mom and Dad’s loan.”
I sat up.
“What?”
“It wasn’t all for me.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s something Dad hasn’t told you.”
“What?”
Trevor went silent.
May you like
Then he whispered,
“He used your name too.”
