“I’ve been sending you $1,500 a month for rent,” my grandfather said in front of everyone.but

I hadn’t even realized a sound had escaped my lips.

“That’s a lie.”

Everyone turned to look at me.

“Liar!”

Shaking, I stared straight at every one of them.

“I never said I wanted to leave this house. It was you both, Mom, Dad, who told me to get out. You abandoned me!”

In response to my anguished cry, my mother pretended to collapse into tears and shrieked back at me: “What a terrible thing to say, Amanda! We would never tell you to leave. Your illness is making your memories confused.”

My father echoed her words, glaring at me as though I had lost my mind.

“That’s right. We refuse to indulge your delusions any longer.”

Their blatant denial burned away even the faintest trace of affection that had remained in my heart. Suppressing my trembling, I answered coldly.

“My memories are confused? No, I remember it perfectly. The day I was thrown out of this house, left alone in the cold night with nowhere to go.”

“I remember exactly who saved me. I had never forgotten the despair of that night, the cold that sank into my bones, not even for a single day. It was simply impossible to forget.”

Keeping my glare fixed on all of them, I revealed the truth I had replayed in my heart countless times since that night.

“I ran to Paige’s house, and she took care of me for 2 weeks until I found an apartment. Her parents also remember how I showed up sobbing in the middle of winter with nothing but the clothes on my back. They were furious, saying, ‘How could any parent throw out their daughter in the middle of the night?'”

“If you want, I can call Paige right now and put her on speaker. She can testify very clearly whether I ran away for fun that night or whether I was thrown out.”

Mom’s face stiffened. I continued.

“Most of my paycheck disappeared instantly. Rent, living expenses, treatment for my chronic illness, medication. I didn’t have a single cent left.”

“Whenever I was truly desperate for money, I worked the overnight shift at a 24-hour diner after my day job, sacrificing my sleep just to survive.”

Speaking the words alone brought the memories flooding back. The lingering smell of old grease stuck to the diner’s kitchen, the heaviness in my limbs at dawn, the humiliation of counting a handful of coins and tips—all of it felt as if it were still clinging to my skin.

“And while I was working myself to the bone like that, what were you doing? I was shocked to see this house again today. The kitchen is remodeled, there’s a brand new large refrigerator, and outside, a shiny new SUV.”

“When I begged for help, you ignored me, saying you had no money. So where exactly did you get the money for all this luxury?”

My parents exchanged glances, panicking, and muttered helplessly.

“That’s…”

They moved their mouths as if searching desperately for excuses, but the words got stuck in their throats and nothing meaningful came out. Then I turned my gaze to Madison.

“And that’s not all. Last summer, the three of you took a trip to Hawaii to celebrate Madison’s high school graduation, didn’t you? I saw it on your Instagram, Madison. You were laughing on the beach and you looked like you were having the best time of your life.”

At this direct accusation, Madison’s face flushed bright red.

“That’s only because you were sick and you wouldn’t have been able to travel anyway!”

She tried to make another excuse, but under Grandpa’s icy stare, she swallowed her words. She only looked down in embarrassment. She too was an accomplice in this deception.

Grandpa watched the ugly argument with a cold, unblinking gaze. Eventually, he quietly said: “That’s enough.”

He took control of the room. Grandpa pulled his smartphone from his pocket and began making a call. Everyone in the room held their breath at his unexpected action.

“It’s me. Sorry to bother you on Thanksgiving. I need something urgently. Please send the full transaction history of the transfers I made every month from my personal account to Karen’s from 5 years ago until now as a PDF to my email immediately. I want to confirm it here and now.”

His voice was quiet but carried an undeniable authority that allowed no refusal. My father shouted in panic: “Wait, what are you doing?”

But Grandpa only shot him a cold look and did not respond. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock.

After what felt like an eternity, Grandpa’s phone vibrated softly with an email notification. He put on his glasses, opened the email, and began slowly scrolling through the attached file. Then he slowly lifted his face from the screen and spoke each word sharp as a blade.

*”Transfer date: the third of every month. Recipient: Karen, your personal account. $1,500. And in the memo section it clearly says this: ‘Amanda’s monthly support.'”

He paused, then held the phone out across the table toward my parents as though presenting irrefutable evidence.

“60 times for 5 years, without missing a single month. My goodwill reached you faithfully. But Amanda knew nothing. She never received this money, not once in 5 years. So explain it to me, Jonathan, Karen. Where did my $90,000 disappear to?”

The Lawsuit and the Final Severance

The total, $90,000—a specific and crushing figure—pressed heavily onto the atmosphere of the living room. It was no longer an amount that could be explained away with excuses.

My father’s face was twisted as if he had been punched in the gut, and my mother finally broke down, choking on sobs. Their faces were flushed red with guilt and shame. No excuse, no lie, could stand up against this immovable evidence.

An unbearable silence dominated the room. My father finally forced out a voice, but it was neither an excuse nor a justification.

It was just one unbearably weak word: “I’m sorry.”

That single word was the moment he admitted his guilt. When Grandpa heard it, he shook his head once in deep disappointment and quietly rose from his seat.

He no longer spared them a single glance and gently placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Let’s go, Amanda. There’s no reason to stay here any longer.”

I nodded wordlessly and stood up, leaving my stunned parents and sister behind. We turned our backs on them. Thus, the Thanksgiving dinner came to an end.