The golden boy claimed I stole his Rolex, and my sister, Becca, didn’t just believe him—she went scorched earth. She didn't just call the police; she hired the most ruthless prosecutor she knew to ensure the charges stuck. I was sentenced to three years. I walked into that correctional facility a younger brother and came out a convicted felon. Before the sentencing, even her own lawyer had tried to talk sense into her. "Just give him a scare, Becca. If he actually goes to prison, his life is over." Becca hadn’t even blinked. "Stealing isn't a lapse in judgment; it’s a character flaw. He needs to learn that actions have consequences. As for his future? I’m rich enough to be his safety net for the rest of his life once he’s learned his lesson." Three years later, I walked through the gates. She was standing there, her eyes rimmed with red, reaching out to me. "You’ve learned your lesson now, right?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Come on. Let’s go home." I didn’t say a word. I just took a step back, letting her hand hang in the empty air. I didn’t need her home. I’d found a new sister inside. And she was the only person who actually believed me.
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