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The second time, I blamed myself for forgetting a payment I’d previously scheduled. By the third month, every time my paycheck arrived, my stomach tightened with anxiety.
Uncovering the Truth
I called my bank to investigate the mysterious withdrawals. What they told me was shocking.
The transfer wasn’t random at all. It was a planned and automatic deposit into Daria’s account.
He made sure to withdraw money from my account every month, on time.
One afternoon I met her in the kitchen, checking her phone. She seemed completely unfazed, as if nothing in the world could touch her.
“Daria,” I said, trying to keep calm, “why do you take $1,300 out of my paycheck every month?”
He didn’t even look up from the screen.
“This is your contribution,” he said coldly.
Comparison:
“My contribution?” I blinked in disbelief. “You never told me I owed you a fixed amount.”
Finally, he slowly raised his head. His eyes were completely cold.
“Live here. Work here. Use our electricity, internet, and space,” he said. “Don’t play innocent.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I replied, my frustration growing. “You can’t just take the money without talking to me. If you want rent, we’ll talk about it like adults.”
Her expression changed immediately, as if I had deeply offended her.
“Adults? You live in my house,” he snapped.
“This is Marc’s house too,” I reminded her calmly.
Daria stood up so quickly that her chair creaked loudly on the floor.
“Then go away,” he snapped angrily. “If you don’t like it, take your laptop and leave.”
My brother is getting involved