After that night, the tension from my mother and sister grew, a palpable thing feeding on my silence. Brenda’s calls became daily lectures on duty and family obligation. “You think money grows on trees?” she’d demand. “Does your comfort matter more than helping your own blood?”

Tara grew bolder online, posting cryptic messages about “gold-digging women” and “spoiled sisters who forget their roots.” Luke was furious. “She’s targeting you, Madison,” he said, his hands shaking as he held my phone. “You’re carrying our child, and they’re poisoning your peace.”