Home Entertainment Game Technology Advertisement Part 2: For eight years, my parents made me leave the house every time my brother brought his fiance over; Mom said, “She comes from a good family, don’t embarrass us”; Dad added, “Just disappear for the weekend”; I did; then one weekend, I never came back; it took them four years to find out where I went.

Instead it helped buy my parents' lake house.

“No wonder Mom kept saying ‘good family.’”

Avery's face tightened.

“I think that was part of it.”

“What?”

“My parents weren't just respectable.”

“They were donors.”

“Dad gave Mitch a job.”

“Mom helped raise money after your supposed death.”

My parents had built social and financial ties to the Lockhearts around my fictional tragedy.

I had not merely been hidden to avoid embarrassment.

I had been the story that made my brother sympathetic.

The dead sister.

The grieving family.

The brave young man moving forward.

My existence threatened more than a lie.

It threatened the identity Mitch had performed for years.

I looked at Avery.

“What happened to the church money?”

“Your parents agreed to restitution.”

The lake house would be sold.

Insurance repayment.

Memorial-fund repayment.

Legal costs.

Their comfortable retirement was largely gone.

I felt no satisfaction.

Only consequence.

Mitch's financial interest in Grandma's property was void.