I scrolled through the booking confirmation with my thumb. The resort had everything under my name alone, and the remaining balance of eleven thousand euros was due Thursday, charged straight to my card. My sister’s text suddenly made sense. They had never planned to include me, only my money. My mother had snatched the folder so nobody could see that fact printed on the very first page.

Then my phone buzzed with a message from my father, the first words he had sent me all night. It read, “Do not pay a cent. Stay in the car and wait for me.” Through the windshield I watched the front door open. My father walked down the driveway in his slippers, carrying a thick brown envelope and his car keys. His face was pale, and his hands were shaking.