I never imagined my own father would steal my future to fund my brotherâs mistakes.
I was shaking with excitement when I walked into the kitchen. I had the acceptance letter in my handâmy dream school. I finally felt like all the late nights studying and the grief of losing Mom last year were starting to pave a path toward something better.
“Dad, look!” I beamed, holding it out.
He didn’t even look up from his coffee. He just stared at the wall and said, “Stop applying to colleges.”
I froze. I thought he was joking. “Why?”
He turned to me, his face completely void of emotion. “Because I already gave your college fund to your brother.”
The room spun. That account wasnât just “money.” It was everything Mom had left. She worked double shifts while she was sick, saving every penny specifically so I wouldn’t have to struggle the way she did. It was her promise to me.
“You couldn’t!” I screamed, tears instantly stinging my eyes. “That was Mom’s money for me! It was in the will!”
“I could, and I did,” he said coldly. “Your brother needed a truck for his new business idea. He needs a leg up in the world.”
My brother? The one who dropped out of school twice and still lives in the basement?
“But why would you do this to me?” I sobbed. “I earned this! Mom wanted this!”
He stood up and walked out of the room without looking back. “You’ll find a way. You always do. Your brother needs help; you don’t.”
