Post-Marriage: Still Supporting His Brother

The video was crystal clear: that afternoon, George had driven my car away. A few hours later, he came back by taxi, but the car never reappeared.

I stood before the empty parking spot, my blood running cold. With shaking hands, I dialed his number. "George, where is my car?"

After what felt like an eternity, he showed up, rubbing his hands nervously. "I scratched it by accident and sent it to the dealership for repairs."

I watched his lousy performance, then showed him the vehicle's location interface on my phone. "Which part of your story can I still believe? You took my car and gave it to Ross without even discussing it with me?"

His face twisted with feigned grievance. "What's the fuss? Ross is family, and he needs a car for work, so I lent it to him. Besides, if we hadn't shifted the $20,000 Mom and Dad saved for his car to our wedding expenses, he'd have had one long ago. We owe him."

His tone dripped with dissatisfaction, and I could hardly believe my ears. Even at this point, he framed the wedding funds as me shortchanging Ross.

Rage surged through me like electricity. "Whose family is he? Not mine. I'll say this one once more: I want a divorce. And if my car isn't back tonight, I'll go to the police first thing tomorrow and report you for illegal possession."

Ignoring his contorted expression, I hailed a taxi and headed straight to my parents' place. Once there, I poured out all the grievances I'd been carrying in my heart for these years, along with everything that happened today.

My mom listened, her eyes filling with tears. She drew me into a tight hug. "You silly child, why did you shoulder this alone for so long?"

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

Opening it revealed George and his mother, Hilda Serrano, her face plastered with a forced smile. "Miriam, why run home over a little spat? We can talk it out. I brought George to apologize."

George reached for my hand. "Honey, I was wrong. Come home with me."

My gaze was frigid. "I said I wanted a divorce. And return my car immediately."

His expression soured, impatience flashing. "All you care about is that stupid car. I never saw how cold and selfish you were before. It's freezing outside, and Ross is having trouble getting to work. What is wrong with letting him use it for a while? Isn't that what family does?"

Hilda chimed in, "That's right, Miriam. You two are doing well; Ross can't keep up. That car sits idle most days anyway, so why not transfer it to him? He's thinking about buying one, and your car fits perfectly. Saves him the trouble of picking."

I froze, stunned by the sheer audacity of their words.

George nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Ross said your car is second-hand, but it drives fine. Just gift it to him."

My dad, who'd been holding back his anger, couldn't take it anymore. He rushed forward and landed a solid punch on George's face.