through my chest.
“Khloe receives it on the first of every month. Six thousand dollars. She told me she was giving it to you.”
Dad turned toward my sister.
“Khloe?”
She gave a nervous laugh.
“Oh, come on. This is just a misunderstanding.”
I watched her carefully.
“What misunderstanding?”
“There were some delays with the transfers.”
“Twelve months of delays?”
Her smile weakened.
Dad’s voice became sharp.
“Did Lucas send you money?”
Khloe looked down.
I took out my phone.
“Seventy-two thousand dollars,” I said. “I have every transfer confirmation.”
My mother covered her mouth.
Dad stared at Khloe.
“We haven’t received any of it.”
The silence that followed was unbearable.
For the first time in years, nobody seemed interested in discussing my sister’s accomplishments.
I looked around the table and realized that something much larger than favoritism had been happening behind my back.
A year earlier, my father’s restaurant
