“He knew,” I said.
Amanda didn’t soften it.
“Yes.”
“He knew I was paying for everything.”
“Based on this recording, he knew far more than he admitted.”
I looked down at the spreadsheet she had prepared.
Tuition transfers.
Insurance premiums.
groceries.
medical support for his mother.
Household repairs.
The numbers formed clean columns, but my memories were messier.
Each payment had a story.
Brenda crying because her insurance had lapsed.
Thomas telling me his mother needed help after surgery.
Tyler’s academy threatening a late fee.
Every time, I had stepped in because I believed that was what family did.
What I had not known was that they had begun treating my generosity as a strategy.
Amanda turned the speaker off.
“Do you remember how this recording was made?”
I nodded slowly.
Two years earlier, I had left my phone recording on the dining-room sideboard after testing an audio-journal app.
