At 3:47 am my father summoned me for “a family emergency,” but when I saw the red convertible in the driveway and they asked for access to my accounts, I understood that they didn’t want to help me… they wanted to keep everything for themselves.

“We think it would be best if you gave us access to your accounts for security in case of an emergency,” my mother added. I stared at her without blinking and asked her if she was seriously asking for total access to my money.

“Don’t be so dramatic because people with money arrange these things all the time,” Brianna interjected without looking up from her phone. I told them that I already had professional lawyers and accountants to handle my affairs.

My father let out a short laugh and reminded me that those were people I paid while they were my actual blood. I felt something icy run down my chest as I asked them what they said to me when I originally asked for help to start the company.

My mother pursed her lips and claimed that the situation back then was different. “You told me that giving away money makes people weak and that I needed to learn responsibility the hard way,” I reminded them.

Brianna clicked her tongue and told me to get over it because I seemed bitter about the past. “I am not bitter but I am observing that you only care about oversight now that my company has been bought for millions,” I replied.

My father’s jaw tightened as he shouted that they were not asking for gifts but were simply asking for access. That was when I noticed a thick envelope with the logo of a car finance company sitting on the desk next to him.

“When did you buy that red car outside, Brianna?” I asked the only question that actually mattered in that room. She looked up with an uncomfortable expression and asked me what the car had to do with our conversation.

“I want to know if you paid for it with cash or if it is financed,” I said while I looked directly at her. My father hit the desk with his open palm and told me to stop interrogating my sister about her choices.

He claimed they were only there to prevent me from making bad decisions with my inheritance. I had lived for six years eating instant noodles and working eighteen hour days while surviving on maxed out credit cards and cheap coffee.

No one rescued me or believed in me during those hard years, but now they wanted to use the word emergency to get to my profit. “I might have helped you if you had been honest and admitted you made a mistake, but this ambush is pathetic,” I said quietly.