I reached into my bag and took out a manila folder. Mom’s eyes followed it. “What is that?”

“The accounting you forgot.” I pushed it across the table. Dad opened it. The first page held the original trust agreement. The second showed its balance when I turned eighteen.

The next pages documented every withdrawal, then Sydney’s tuition payments, travel receipts, and the dealership invoice. His expression changed slowly.

Mom reached for the records. “Where did you get these?”

“From the institution that managed the trust.”

“These records are decades old.”