Jake’s voice dropped. “Sarah, tell them this is a mistake.”
I looked at the cake, at the banner, at my parents, at every person who had clapped for him before asking me a single question.
“It is a mistake,” I said quietly. “Yours.”
Dad stood. “What did you do, Jake?”
For once, Jake had no ready answer.
Mom began to cry, but I could not tell whether it was grief, fear, or the shock of seeing her favorite son without his costume.
The lawyer was still speaking through the phone, but I barely heard him.
I was watching my family understand something I had known for years.
A golden child can still steal.
And a quiet daughter can still be the one holding the truth.