I stared at that text for a long time. Two sentences that perfectly summarized our relationship. No apology for his daughter’s behavior. No acknowledgement of how cruel the evening had been. Just a reminder that I owed them money.

My response was even briefer.

Figure it out.

I turned off my phone and went to bed, sleeping better than I had in months. Sometimes the most powerful word in the English language is simply “no.”

But that was just the beginning of their education in consequences.

The next morning brought 17 missed calls and 43 text messages. I made my coffee, fed my cat Whiskers, and read every single panicked message while enjoying my toast with homemade strawberry jam.

Amazing how quickly an emergency develops when the money tap gets turned off.

Mom, please call back, read one message from David.

There’s been a misunderstanding, read another from Jessica.

Grandma, I’m sorry, from Khloe, obviously typed by Jessica.

The mortgage payment was due by three that afternoon. Without my $2,000 monthly contribution, they were $800 short. I knew this because I’d been quietly reviewing their finances for months, wondering why they needed so much help despite David’s decent salary.

The coffee was particularly good that morning. Sumatran dark roast, the expensive kind I usually saved for special occasions, but watching my family panic over their own financial irresponsibility felt special enough to warrant the good coffee.