At dinner, my brother sneered, “Still single, huh? Must be lonely being a failure.”
My parents chuckled, so I smiled and said, “Funny coming from a guy whose rent I’ve paid for three years. Not anymore, by the way.”
“And even my brother Derek,” he said, turning toward my table near the back, “who I may not always see eye to eye with, but who’s always been an example of hard work and consistency. I admire you, man.”
People applauded. My mother looked misty-eyed. My father lifted his glass.
Connor gave me the smallest smirk as he handed the microphone back, like he’d just rewritten years of betrayal in thirty seconds and expected me to sit quietly while everyone believed it.
I did sit quietly.
But in my jacket pocket was a USB drive.
And Connor had no idea what was on it.
Three years earlier, he’d been evicted again. He called me late at night, promising he only needed help until he got back on his feet.
