Chapter 5 - Dropping the Receipts
I didn't write a long, emotional status update.
I didn't try to defend my mental health or explain my actions.
I simply made a post consisting entirely of screenshots.
The first picture was the timestamped text I sent Brenda: I’m at the hospital. The baby is coming.
Next to it, I posted her reply from six hours later: Your sister’s boys need new laptops for school. Wire $1,500.
The third picture was the text to Jessica, followed by her single thumbs-up emoji ten hours later.
The final picture was a spreadsheet I had kept over the years.
It documented the $14,000 in "loans" I had given to Brenda and Jessica, none of which had ever been repaid.
For the caption, I only wrote one sentence.
This is the family I am protecting my daughter from.
I hit post and immediately turned off my notifications.
I didn't want to watch the fallout in real-time.
I made myself a cup of herbal tea and sat by the window, rocking my baby.
Within an hour, my phone started ringing endlessly.
It was my Aunt Linda, Brenda’s sister, who rarely ever got involved in family drama.
I decided to answer it.
“Sarah,” Aunt Linda said, her voice filled with absolute shock.
“I just saw your post.”
“Did Brenda really ask you for money right after you gave birth?”
“Yes, Aunt Linda,” I replied softly. “She didn't even ask if Maya was alive.”
I heard Aunt Linda take a sharp breath.
May you like
“I am so incredibly sorry, honey.”
“I am coming over right now with groceries, and I am not taking no for an answer.”
