When a single mother co-signs a car loan for her charming younger brother, she believes it’s a small favor for family. But when betrayal hits harder than she imagined, she must unravel a mess that risks everything she’s built… and discover just how far she’s willing to go for justice.
I should have known better. You’d think that being a single mother of two would’ve taught me to question every detail before signing anything, especially something as significant as a loan. But when it comes to family, specifically Drew, I’ve always had a soft spot.
And I’ve learned that people with soft spots tend to get bruised. It started last fall. Life was steady, not easy but steady.
I had finally figured out a routine that worked for us. My daughter, Sam, was in the fifth grade, still carrying around a backpack almost as big as she was, always scribbling in the margins of her notebooks. My son, Noah, had just started seventh grade.
He was teetering on the edge of adolescence, all elbows and mood swings, trying to find his place in a middle school that suddenly felt too big. Their father, Jeremy, was still loosely in the picture. He showed up when it was convenient; birthdays, the occasional school concert, and sometimes remembered to send child support.
But day to day, the parenting fell to me. It always had. Then Drew called.
He started with that voice he’s always used when he wants something. It was light, boyish, full of charm that used to work on teachers and girlfriends, and now, apparently, still worked on me. “Leah, I landed a job at a finance firm,” he said.
“I swear, sis! Things are finally turning around for me.”
I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe that he was growing up.
He had been the golden child once, the one who made everyone laugh, who turned punishment into performance, always managing to slip out of trouble because he promised to be better next time. When his tech startup crashed two years ago, I was the one who held him as he cried. When he drifted from couch to couch afterward, it was me bringing groceries, checking in, and reminding him to eat.
So when he asked for one more thing, I didn’t immediately say no. “It’s just a co-sign,” he said, sitting at my kitchen table, tapping his fingers nervously against the wood. “I need the car for work, Leah.
The story doesn’t end here –
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