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At my college graduation dinner, my wealthy uncle asked, "Did the college fund I set up for you cover all four years? I literally froze mid-bite. The whole table went silent. My parents looked like they were about to throw up. What college fund?" I asked. "Uncle Richard blinked at me, confused. The fund I started when you were born. 80,000 dollars. Your parents were supposed to handle it until you started school. My hands started shaking. For four years, I'd worked overnight shifts at a warehouse while taking full-time classes. I slept maybe four hours a night. I ate ramen most weeks. I wore the same clothes until they fell apart. I graduated with a 3.9 GPA, but I was completely cooked health-wise. "There was never any fund," I said. "I worked full-time. I took out loans. Uncle Richard stared at my dad. Michael. Where's the money?" Dad wouldn't look up. Mom's knuckles went white around her wine glass. My younger brother Austin was shifting in his seat. He was 17. About to graduate from Westfield Academy, the most expensive private school in our state. tuition runs 25,000 a year. That's when it clicked. You spent it on Austin. I whispered. You spent my college fund on his private school. Mom's face just crumpled. We thought you'd figure it out. You were always the smart one. Figure it out? My voice got loud. I had panic attacks and bathroom stalls. I fell asleep at red lights driving home from my shift. Dad finally looked up. Defensive. Austin was struggling. We made a choice. Uncle Richard's voice went ice-cold. You told me every time I asked that Nina was doing great. You've been lying to me for years. Austin had gone pale. Last Christmas when Nina asked about textbook money, you said you were broke, but you'd just paid my tuition. You gave Austin a thousand-dollar laptop that same week. I added. Uncle Richard stood up. Michael? Every loan I've given you, I want it back. Two weeks are I'm calling my lawyer. Richard, come on. Dad said. We're family. Family doesn't steal from their kids. He turned to me. Nina, I'm paying off your student loans. All of them. I started crying. Austin shoved his chair back hard. I'm transferring to public school. I can't go back to Westfield knowing this. Austin don't. Mom reached for him. He pulled away. How am I supposed to act like this is fine? Dad's phone rang. He looked at the screen and went white. It's the bank. Uncle Richard smiled cold. Yeah, that's them confirming I called in the loan I co-signed on your house. 60 days to pay yourself. Mom gasped. Where are we supposed to live? Dad stood up so fast his chair fell over. You piece of, Austin grabbed Dad's arm. Don't. Dad shook him off and stepped toward Uncle Richard. The restaurant manager appeared. Sir, lower your voice or leave. We're leaving, I said. Grabbing my purse. Nina, wait. Mom stood up. Mascara running. We can fix this. You can't give me back four years. Uncle Richard guided me toward the exit. Outside, Austin came running out. Nina, wait. He was breathing hard. I just withdrew from Westfield. On my phone, I'm done. Austin, you don't have to. No, I do. He pulled out a 20 from his wallet. This is all I have, but I'm getting a job. I'll help pay Uncle Richard back. Mom burst through the doors with Dad behind her. Austin, get in the car now. No, Austin said. Dad's face turned red. You're 17. You don't get a choice. In three months, he's 18. Uncle Richard said. He's welcome at my place. Mom started crying harder. You're turning our children against us. You did that yourself, I said. A cop car pulled into the lot. The officer got out looking tired. Disturbance. Just family drama, Uncle Richard said. We're leaving. The cop nodded. Separately would be best. Mom reached for me. Nina, you're my daughter. Then you should have acted like I mattered, I said. And got an Uncle Richard's car. As we drove away, I watched my parents standing in the lot. Austin walked toward the bus stop. He'd picked his side. Uncle Richard drove two blocks in silence. Your lease is up next month, right? Yeah, move into my guest house. No rent. I started crying again. My phone buzzed. Austin sent a screenshot. Payment plan to Uncle Richard. $15 a week from a grocery job he just applied for. Another text from Dad. You'll regret this. Then mom, after everything we gave you, I blocked both numbers.