"My dad dropped out of school at fifteen to put every single one of you through college. Even after you got married, he kept helping however he could, terrified you might struggle."

"Now he's lying in a hospital bed, and we didn't even ask you for money. We sold our car. Our house. Everything—to pay for his treatment."

"All we want is the money he lent you. We're not even asking for interest. Why is that so hard?"

Every word landed like a hammer. Uncle Charles, Aunt Anna, and Grandma's faces cycled through pale, then red.

Uncle Charles jabbed a finger at me. "Y-you—you—" He sputtered, unable to form a sentence.

Aunt Anna shot to her feet, probably realizing he had no comeback.

"What's that supposed to mean? That money's ours. We don't need your family's permission to spend it!"

"If we choose to help, that's generosity. If we don't, you have no right to guilt-trip us!"

"Your dad lent us that money willingly. Nobody forced him!"

The dinner ended exactly how you'd expect.

When Mom and I rushed back to the hospital, Dad was still awake. He lay in his bed, watching us with hope written all over his face.

I didn't sugarcoat anything. I told him everything—every word Uncle Charles and the others had said, repeated exactly.

Dad didn't respond. He just lay there, silent.

After a long moment, I heard it. Soft, broken sobs, coming from the bed.

I sighed and stepped out of the room.

I didn't know how to comfort him.

These were his siblings. The brother and sister he'd grown up with, protected, sacrificed for over decades.

No matter how brutal the truth was to accept, I couldn't carry even a fraction of that weight for him.

I didn't go back in all night. I dozed on a hallway bench until dawn started creeping through the windows.

Then I got up and headed home to make breakfast for Mom and Dad.

Walking out of the apartment building, I spotted the lottery shop by the entrance. Something pulled me inside.

When I was little, Dad once told me something I never forgot.

"Never be afraid of hitting rock bottom."

"Because once you're there, the only way left is up."

I'd never bought a lottery ticket in my life. I had the clerk print me a random Quick Pick for the Double Chromosphere.

I tucked it away, grabbed the insulated food container, and hurried back to the hospital.

In the room, I found Joseph Walsh—Mom's older brother.

He had his arms around Mom while she cried, murmuring comfort, a bank card clutched tight in his hand.

"It's okay. I'm here. Take this and use it first."

My eyes burned.

Uncle Joseph caught sight of me in the doorway and waved me over.

"Carrie, there you are. Your mom told me everything. Don't worry—we'll figure this out together."

"As for your dad's relatives..." He paused. "I already talked to Rachel Walsh. Give her a call."

Rachel. Of course—she was a lawyer.

For debt collection, she was exactly who we needed.

I handed Mom the food container and stepped out to make the call.

Rachel moved fast. The very next morning, my phone exploded with messages in the family group chat.

Over a dozen notifications. My hand practically went numb from the vibrations.

"Caroline Gilbert! Are you fucking crazy? We borrowed a little money and you're seriously suing us?"

"We're family! What do you gain from dragging us to court? Does your dad know about this? Does he know his own daughter is being this disrespectful to her elders?"

"I'm warning you—don't push us too far. Worst case, we all go down together!"

I ignored their cursing.

When I went to find Rachel, I'd already expected this outcome.

I was only worried about Dad.

I glanced at him on the hospital bed. He was staring blankly at his phone, lost in thought.

Before I could speak, he noticed my gaze and forced a smile.

"It's okay, Carrie. I was prepared for this."

Relieved, I lowered my head and replied to their messages in the group chat.

"I tried to handle this properly. You refused. So don't blame me now."

"Cut the nonsense. Either pay up, or I'm taking this to court."

Their responses came instantly—voice messages, each over thirty seconds long.

"Fine, fine, fine, Caroline Gilbert. You really want to do this?"

"Then sue! Go ahead! Your dad transferred that money to us himself. No IOU. No proof it was ever a loan!"

"You won't see a single cent of that money!"

A bunch of legal illiterates.

I snorted, stopped replying, and left the group chat.

I thought that would be the end of it—the rest could go through legal channels.

But that afternoon, Uncle Charles showed up at the hospital with Aunt Anna and Aunt Hailey in tow.

I was in the washroom scrubbing Dad's dirty clothes when I heard a commotion from his room.

I rushed back to find Uncle Charles jabbing a finger at Dad's face, shouting.

"Big brother, we've been real brothers for decades, and you're just gonna let your daughter bully your own siblings like this?"

"What did Mom and Dad tell you? As the oldest, is this how you look after us?"

"When you die, how will you face them?"

I wanted to explode, but Dad spoke first.

"I've been in the hospital all this time, and not once did you come see me. Now you show up just to curse at me and your sister-in-law."

"Think about everything that's happened. Hand on your heart—haven't I been a good enough older brother?"

"You're the ones who won't be able to face Mom and Dad. Even if I die today, I can tell them my conscience is clear. Can you?"

Uncle Charles's chest heaved with rage.

Aunt Anna stepped forward to back him up.

"Alright, big brother. Here's three thousand dollars. The three of us pooled it together. Take it, and stop saying we wronged you."

"We're done talking. The money's right here. Have Carrie drop the lawsuit. Don't make this uglier than it has to be."

"If we all go down together, you won't come out clean either."

I pushed past them to Dad's bedside, picked up the stack of bills, and weighed it in my hand.

"Aunt Anna's family: one hundred thousand. Uncle Charles's family: fifty thousand. Aunt Hailey's family: two hundred thousand. I won't even bother with the smaller amounts. Just what I can count comes to three hundred fifty thousand."

"And you want to settle with three thousand? Do I look like an idiot to you?"

Aunt Hailey thrust a red-manicured finger in my face.

"Stop spouting nonsense! You say three hundred fifty thousand—where's the proof? Where's the IOU?"

"We're only giving you this three thousand because we're family. Push us any further, and you won't see a single cent!"

I shoved Aunt Hailey's hand away.

"If you've got nothing better to do, go read up on the law. Back then my dad really didn't make you write IOUs, but there are chat logs and transfer records. Those are all evidence."

"Uncle Charles, I remember Brittany's company takes these things pretty seriously, right? And Aunt Anna, I remember Marcus just had a baby. If Dad is labeled a deadbeat who won't pay his debts, I don't know whether it will affect the kid's future."

"I want to see, when this gets dragged out to the end, whether it's you who gets affected or me."

Every word I said hit right where it hurt.

Aunt Anna lunged at me, nails out, ready to strike.

At the critical moment, Mom's scream cut through the air.

"Christopher! Christopher! What's wrong, Christopher!"

Only then did everyone realize Dad had collapsed.

I rushed to call the doctor.

Dad was quickly wheeled into the emergency room.

Mom couldn't stop crying. I shoved down my own fear and gripped her hand, trying to steady us both.

Uncle Charles stood beside us and snorted.

"Sister-in-law, it's not that we're trying to be harsh, but look at your husband's illness—it's going to cost so much money, and he might not even be saved."

"I'm afraid in the end you'll lose both the person and the money. If he really goes, what will you and Carrie do? We're doing this for your own good."

"If you ask me, your husband has gotten his money's worth out of this life. How about—"

Before he could finish, I shot to my feet.

"Get out! If you hadn't come to the hospital today to make a scene, how would my dad have gotten such a huge shock!"

"Are you even human!"

I was gulping air, the suffocating rage nearly knocking me out.

Just then, the emergency room door opened.

Mom and I rushed over. The doctor pulled off his mask.

"We managed to bring him back for now. But remember: the patient absolutely cannot be stimulated again."

"Recently, a new experimental drug came out overseas. Combined with follow-up treatment, it could really help his condition—but it's expensive."

"Talk it over as a family."

The moment the doctor left, Uncle Charles snorted.

"Your dad's illness isn't covered by insurance. You've been using imported medicine all along—you've already sold your house and your car. Now for some experimental drug, what are you going to use to pay for it?"

"Just listen to me. Let this illness go. You've already done your best."

I was about to fire back when my phone rang.

"Hello, is this Ms. Caroline Gilbert?"

"The lottery ticket you bought at our shop yesterday has won. First prize!"

"Sixty million! A full sixty million!"