especially cruel.
For twelve months, I’d been sending money to help keep his house out of foreclosure.
I had sacrificed vacations, delayed purchases, and rearranged my own financial plans because I thought my parents desperately needed help.
And here he was, publicly belittling me.
I slowly placed my fork on the plate.
“Then I suppose Khloe can handle the mortgage payments from now on.”
Dad frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“The six thousand dollars I send every month.”
Nobody moved.
My mother lowered her spoon.
Khloe stopped smiling.
I continued.
“If I’m such a disappointment, I’ll stop helping. Since Khloe is doing so well, she can take over.”
Dad leaned forward.
“Lucas, what money?”
I stared at him.
“The money I’ve been sending for the house.”
“What money for the house?”
I looked toward my mother.
“Mom?”
She shook her head slowly.
“I don’t understand.”
A cold feeling spread
