At Thanksgiving, my parents gave every grandchild a gift—except my two kids.

Grant walked up the front steps, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his worn work jacket. He looked tired, his hair messy, his posture lacking the usual cocky, easygoing charm he wore around my parents.

I opened the front door before he could ring the bell.

"Grant," I said.

"Hey, Mara," he said softly, standing on the porch while the rain dripped off the edge of the roof behind him. "Can I come in for a minute? Just to talk. No screaming, I promise."

I looked at him for a second, then stepped aside to let him in.

Grant took off his muddy boots in the entryway, leaving them neatly by the door. He walked into the kitchen, his eyes sweeping over the quiet, orderly house.

"Where are the kids?" he asked.

"Upstairs watching a movie," I said, leaning against the counter. "Do you want coffee?"

"No, I'm good," Grant said, sitting down at the kitchen island. He rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a long sigh. "Mom called me an hour ago. She was screaming so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear."

"Did she tell you about the loan?" I asked.

Grant looked up, his brown eyes clouded with genuine shame. "Yeah. She admitted it to me and Paige."

I raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And it's disgusting, Mara," Grant said quietly.

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. In thirty-three years, Grant had never once taken my side against our parents.

"You mean that?" I asked.

"Of course I mean it!" Grant said, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself and lowered it again. "Forging your name? Taking advantage of you while you were going through a divorce? It's sick, Mara. I knew Dad was desperate back then, but I never thought Mom would do something like that."

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the counter.

"And what happened yesterday at dinner..." Grant shook his head. "I didn't realize what Mom was doing until she handed Ruby that present. When I saw Sophie and Noah sitting there... man, I felt like throwing up. I wanted to say something, but..."

"But you didn't," I said gently.

"I didn't," Grant admitted, his shoulders slumping. "Because Dad pays the rent on my workshop, Mara. Because if I open my mouth, Mom cuts off the funding for Ruby's dance lessons. I've been letting them buy my silence for five years."

He looked at me, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

"You were the only one who actually earned your way out of that house, Mara," Grant whispered. "The rest of us are just parasites hanging onto Dad's company."

I looked at my younger brother—the golden boy who had finally seen the gilded cage he was living in.

"Why are you here, Grant?" I asked softly.

Grant reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, flat wooden box tied with a piece of red yarn.

He pushed it across the counter toward me.

"Ruby made this last night," Grant said. "After we got home, she asked me why Sophie and Noah didn't get any presents. I couldn't give her a good answer, Mara. So she stayed up until 11:00 PM making this for them."

I opened the small wooden box.

Inside were two hand-carved wooden keychains. One had the letter S burned into the smooth pine; the other had the letter N.

Alongside them was a piece of notebook paper with eight-year-old handwriting:

To Sophie and Noah. You are my favorite cousins. Happy Thanksgiving. Love, Ruby.

A lump formed in my throat, thick and painful.

"Grant..." I breathed, holding the tiny box in my hands.

"I'm not here to ask you to fix the books, Mara," Grant said, standing up from the stool. "And I'm not here to ask you to drop the charges against Mom and Dad. What they did was illegal, and what they did to your kids was cruel."

He walked toward the door, turning back to look at me one last time.

"I'm resigning from Dad's company on Monday," Grant said firmly. "I'm taking a job at a commercial garage in Ridgefield. It pays less, but at least I won't have to look at myself in the mirror every morning knowing I let my parents ruin my sister."

He pulled on his boots, opened the door, and looked out into the rain.

"Tell Sophie and Noah that Ruby wants them to come over for pancakes tomorrow," Grant said with a small, sad smile. "Just us. No grandparents. No Camille."