Chapter 6 - Erica’s Part
The worst part was not Jared.
Brian wanted it to be Jared.
Jared was easy to hate. Smug. Loud. Careless with other people’s dignity. He had the kind of face that made every apology look like a strategy. But Erica was his sister, and the part of her that had betrayed him did not disappear just because Jared was worse.
After the party ended badly, Robert asked everyone to leave except Brian, Erica, Jared, and Aunt Melissa, who refused to go because she said someone needed to stay in case “the men got stupid.”
The cake sat untouched.
The barbecue had gone cold.
Erica finally told the truth in pieces.
Jared had lost more money than she admitted. Sports betting first. Then credit cards. Then a “business opportunity” with a friend from the gym. The $800 from Brian had started as mortgage help, but once it became regular, Jared treated it like income. When Brian asked fewer questions than the bank, Jared found more reasons to need it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brian asked.
Erica wiped her face.
“Because you always fix things.”
That answer hurt more than an insult.
Brian sat back.
“So you let him call me an emergency fund.”
“I didn’t know he was going to say that.”
“But you laughed.”
She looked down.
“I panicked.”
“No,” Brian said quietly. “You participated.”
Robert closed his eyes.
Jared seized the opening. “See? She was scared. You’re attacking your sister at Dad’s birthday.”
Aunt Melissa pointed a fork at him.
“You don’t get to narrate this.”
Jared shut his mouth.
Erica’s hands twisted in her lap.
“I thought if we could get through the refinance, we’d pay you back.”
Brian looked at the loan notices.
“What refinance?”
Jared went still.
Erica began crying again.
Robert reached for the newest envelope.
Inside was a pending refinance packet using the house, Erica’s income, and projected “family contribution support” as part of the household cash-flow statement.
Family contribution support.
Brian’s $800.
Listed like a stable income source.
Not a gift.
Not help.
A dependency.
Brian’s name was not on the mortgage.
Not on the deed.
Not in the house.
But somehow Jared had turned him into a number in a lender packet.
Robert’s hand shook with anger.
“This is fraud-adjacent at best.”
Jared snapped, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Robert rose slowly.
“I know my son has been paying for a house you bragged about owning.”
Brian did not correct the word son.
May you like
Not that day.
Not ever again.
