That was why Theresa bragged endlessly about how “well” her family lived. That was why Aaron boasted about expensive restaurants. That was why Daniel let everyone believe he contributed far more to our household than his modest income allowed. My hard work was funding a pathetic charade they used to make me feel inferior.
“And the empty plate?” I asked softly. “Was that part of protecting the family image, too?”
Daniel dropped his head, unable to look at me. “Mom was furious because you refused to pay for her trip to the resort last month.”
I sat back in my chair. I hadn’t realized that.
Two weeks prior, Theresa had asked me for $3,500 to fund a family beach vacation. I told her no, explaining that I had just reinvested a significant amount of capital into new equipment for my firm.
The dinner hadn’t been a random act of spite. It was a calculated punishment. Theresa wanted to send a message: if I didn’t fund every single one of her demands, I didn’t deserve a seat at her table.
The empty plate wasn’t just a petty insult. It was an ultimatum: Pay up, or you don’t belong.
“Get out, Daniel.”
“Mari—”
