Dana slid into the corner booth the next morning and set a thick blue folder on the table. “Brooke borrowed $9,000 from me,” she said. “Then she blocked my number.” I stared at her. She wasn’t the only one. Over the next two days, five more names surfaced: a former roommate, an old bridesmaid, a coworker, and two cousins, each with the same story about loans that were never repaid.

On the night of my party, all six of them sat together in the private room, folders spread across the tables. Then my phone lit up at three in the morning. Brooke’s name flashed, and her voice came through breathless. “Marisol, what did you do? The estate just called Mom, and they want their money tonight.” Behind her, I heard my mother screaming.