“You’re really upset about this?” Seth leaned on the fridge, beer in hand, with that smug grin he always wore. “Relax. We needed it more than you.”

I stared at my banking app. I refreshed it. Once. Twice. A third time. Still: $4.87.

Yesterday, I had over $14,000.

“$14,000? Are you serious?” I choked out.

Sarah laughed from the couch, wine in hand like it was game night. “Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. We’re family.”

“You emptied my account.”

“We’re going to pay it back,” Seth said, as if that made it okay. “Eventually.”

I turned to Mom, who kept knitting. “Did you know?”

She sighed, not even looking at me. “Sweetheart, you’re always so sensitive. You’re doing fine. No mortgage, no kids, good job.”

“So that makes it okay to steal from me?”

“Language, Mason,” Dad said, eyes still on his phone.

I looked at Sarah. “How did you even get in?”

“You left your login on the family computer,” she said like it was my fault.

“Next time, log out.”

I could barely breathe.

“You’re overreacting,” Seth added. “We used it for rent. Groceries. Stuff we needed to live.”

“You never asked.”

“We didn’t think we had to!” Sarah snapped. “You’ve always paid for things. What’s the difference?”

No one moved. No one apologized.

“You’re leaving?” Mom asked.

“I’ll be in touch,” I said, zipping my coat.

But this wasn’t new. For years, I’d been the one they leaned on. Sarah’s phone bill? Covered. Seth’s lost job? I helped. Credit card debt? Paid off. Not once did they say thank you.

“God gave you more so you could help us,” Mom used to say. “Family supports each other,” Dad would add.

Translation: your money is ours.

Two days later, Sarah called. Then texted.

I finally answered.

“Mason,” she said, voice shaky. “We have a problem. The power company’s threatening to shut us off. We need help.”

I laughed bitterly. “You drained my savings. Now you want more?”

“It wasn’t just for us!” she snapped. “We used some for Mom and Dad. Dad’s car broke down.”

“And I wasn’t told.”

“Because you always say no if it’s not an emergency!”

“This is criminal, Sarah.”

“It’s family!”

“You didn’t ask.”

“We thought you’d be fine with it. You always help. That’s what you’re for, right?”

There it was.

Not a brother. Not a son. Just a bank.

A few days later, Mom invited me to dinner. No apology. Just a demand.