Dustin leaned against Pamela’s luxury SUV, jingling the loose keys in his pocket.

I walked up the driveway and stopped right in front of my father.

“You emptied my bank account,” I said.

Gregory turned off the hose nozzle and set it gently on the wet pavement.

“I closed a joint account that I helped you open,” he said.

“That was my money,” I said.

“Every dollar I earned from my waitressing shifts.”

“You clearly aren’t responsible with money, sweetie,” he said.