Attorney Watson slid a document to the center of the table. It was a real estate registry.
“This property, Lakeside Manor, was originally purchased by Mrs. Hansen in Mandy Hansen’s name. However, the current registered owner is Ashley Thompson, your younger sister. The transfer date is October 15th, 3 years ago. The sale price was $1, a gift.”
$1. That was the price of my life.
I stared at the date. October 3 years ago. The exact time I had graduated from college and begun drowning under student loan repayments and living expenses. The moment my life started to derail.
“I always thought something was wrong,” I said quietly. “I graduated at the top of my class. I had professors’ recommendations and made it to the final interviews at several major companies. And yet, somehow, every single one of them rejected me without explanation.”
I fixed my gaze on my father. His eyes darted away.
“Around that time, anonymous emails were sent to the HR departments of the companies I was about to join. Emails claiming that Mandy Hansen suffers from a severe mental illness and was a troublemaker at university.”
“What are you talking about?” He tried to play dumb.
“IP addresses don’t lie, Dad. The emails were sent from this house, and the timestamps match the hours you were in your study.
You pushed me into unemployment on purpose, didn’t you? Because if I became independent, you wouldn’t be able to keep committing fraud using my name.”
“No, it was for your own good.”
“And you, Mom,” I said, turning to my mother. “I finally understand why no matter how hard I worked, I never saved any money and why I kept failing credit card screenings.”
Attorney Watson produced a set of bank statements.
“This is the account Mandy used to repay her student loans. She deposited money every month from her part-time jobs.
However, by using the blank power of attorney document she tricked Mandy into signing during her college years, the funds were automatically redirected, not to the loan agency, but to a hidden account under Sandra’s name.”
My mother gasped.
“And yet, Mom, you kept telling me I wasn’t trying hard enough, that I should be more like Ashley. Because of you, I was blacklisted as a delinquent borrower. I couldn’t even rent a proper apartment.
You destroyed my credit. You forced me to juggle three jobs and still live in fear of ending up on the streets.”
My mother covered her mouth with trembling hands.
My poverty wasn’t bad luck. It wasn’t a lack of effort. It was a cage carefully, deliberately built by my own parents.
“And you, Ashley?” I turned to my sister. She glared back at me as if she were the victim. “Kevin’s parents are living in the vacation house, aren’t they?”