Chapter 4

His so-called startup was borrowing money to rent luxury cars and stay in hotels, then filming videos to teach other people how to achieve financial freedom in thirty days.

Whether he was free or not, I couldn't say, but his creditors were about to take away his personal freedom for good.

Dad pushed the loan guarantee document in front of Wendy.

"You have a steady job and clean credit. Sign it."

Wendy glanced at the amount and tore the contract up on the spot.

"One point two million dollars? Why don't you just go rob a bank?"

Her older brother's face darkened. "You eat under this roof, you live under this roof. What's wrong with asking you to help out a little now?"

"This shabby little room isn't even as nice as my walk-in closet!"

"Your home?"

Her older sister sneered.

"You really think you're the Pruitt family's precious daughter?"

Mom came out of the kitchen.

"Winifred, you've been getting more and more out of line lately."

"Have we ever mistreated you, from the time you were little until now?"

Wendy pointed right in her face.

"You stole her money, changed her college applications, and now you're saddling her with the debt. And that's not mistreating her?"

The living room went dead silent in an instant.

I was startled too.

So it turned out that as long as the fist wasn't landing on her, Wendy's mind always knew the difference between right and wrong.

Dad's face turned grim.

"Everyone who agrees that Winifred should co-sign for her brother, raise your hand."

Four votes.

Wendy shrieked, "I won't sign!"

Dad locked the front door right away.

"You don't sign, you don't leave."

They took away her shoes and coat and locked her in my little room.

At midnight, the system opened a call between the two of us.

The moment Wendy saw me, the tears started falling.

"Winifred, I was wrong."

"Can you please switch us back right now?"

I asked her, "Wrong about what?"

"I shouldn't have borrowed Chester."

"You call that borrowing?"

I pulled up the chat history between the two of them.

"Borrowing something requires the owner's permission. What you did is stealing."

Wendy bit her lip.

"He and I were just messing around. The one I really love is Jordan."

Jordan Gilbert, standing beside me, looked up.

Clearly Wendy hadn't expected him to be there, and her face went white in an instant.

"Jordan, let me explain..."

Jordan muted the call.

"Keep digging."

On Wendy's computer, we found an encrypted ledger.

Starting when she was sixteen, every month she had transferred thirty thousand dollars to my family.

The memo line was never alimony, and never a thank-you fee.

It was just three words.

Support-fee payments.

Jordan stared at those words.

"Supporting what?"

I thought back over the years, and almost every time my family bore down on me, it had something to do with Wendy.

They wouldn't let me go to Northfield.

They wouldn't let me go to grad school.

They wouldn't let me change jobs.

They wouldn't even let me move out.

They weren't raising a child.

It was more like they were guarding a piece of cargo on Wendy's behalf—something that couldn't be lost, but couldn't be allowed to live too well either.

Just then, a line of red text floated up from the system.

Warning: Jasmine Fox will cause a drunk-driving accident tomorrow night.

Originally assigned to bear responsibility: Winifred Fox.

Solution: family vote.

I watched Wendy on the screen, trembling and in tears.

Suddenly I was in no hurry to save her.

Some lessons are useless no matter how many times other people explain them.

She had to sit in the driver's seat herself and smell the gasoline coming straight at her.