The only sound was the hum of the old refrigerator in the kitchen corner.

“Arthur, don’t be ridiculous,” my mother said.

Her voice had a slight tremor now.

She took a half-step back, her shoulder touching Megan’s.

“You knew about the money,” my father said.

“You told me the doctor called you directly.”

“You told me you saw the scans.”

My mother looked at the wall, refusing to meet his eyes.

“They were complicated,” she murmured.

“The diagnoses were changing all the time.”

“There was no diagnosis,” Lauren said.

“Megan didn’t even have a file at the clinic.”

“I checked the billing office when I worked there.”

“That’s how I found out.”

Megan turned her head and glared at Lauren.

“You ruin everything,” Megan said.

“You were supposed to be my friend.”

“You stole from your own father,” Lauren said.

“You let your sibling live in a construction zone to pay for your shoes.”

Lauren looked at me, her eyes filled with pity.

I hated that look.

I had spent a decade believing I was the protector of this family.