She looked at Andrew, but he still refused to meet her eye.

The silence in the room grew heavy, the air thick with the smell of old paper and the cold draft from the air conditioner.

My mother stood up from her chair, her knees trembling slightly as she stood before Claire.

“Claire,” my mother said, her voice steady despite her tears.

“Did you take your sister’s money?”

Claire did not answer, her lips pressing into a thin, tight line.

“Did you know Andrew was lying to us about Emily?” my mother asked again, her voice rising.

Claire looked away, her eyes scanning the portraits of former garrison commanders hanging on the wall.

“We needed the money, Mom,” Claire said, her voice barely audible.

“Andrew was passed over for promotion twice.”

“We couldn’t afford the house on our own, and Emily had no family to support.”

“She didn’t need it.”

My father stood up then, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the desk.

He looked at Claire with a coldness I had never seen him direct at her before.

“She is your sister,” my father said.