A judge appointed an independent trustee to restructure the organization and return the stolen funds to the legitimate charities.

Then came Vanessa’s turn.

She stood in the hallway of the courthouse, her face pale and her designer coat looking out of place.

The civil suits had already drained her bank accounts to pay back the creditors Ethan had defrauded.

“Claire, please,” she whispered, reaching out to touch my sleeve.

Her fingers were trembling.

“They’re freezing my accounts,” she said. “I have nothing left. The lawyers say I might face accessory charges.”

I looked at her hand on my arm.

For years, I had fixed her mistakes, paid her bills, and shielded her from the consequences of her own selfishness.

“I can’t help you, Vanessa,” I said.

“You’re my sister,” she pleaded, tears spilling over her mascara. “You have to help me. I didn’t know what Ethan was doing.”

“You knew enough to help him frame me,” I said.

I pulled my arm away.

“You’re on your own now,” I said, turning my back on her.

She let out a sharp, choked sob, but I didn’t look back.