On New Year’s Eve, mom gave presents to every grandchild except mine, so I quietly left and said never to invite us again—then at 6:00 a.m. on January 1, my family’s “new year’s gift” arrived at their door.

That movement did more than any shouted accusation could have done.

My mother stared at her empty hand.

Brent leaned back, laughing bitterly. “Fine. You all want a villain? Make me the villain. But Julia isn’t some saint. She’s been sitting on this power for years.”

I met his eyes.

“Yes.”

He blinked.

“Yes,” I repeated. “I had the power to hurt this family for years. I didn’t use it. You had the power to be decent to two children for one evening. You couldn’t manage it.”

Cassandra covered her mouth.

My mother said, “You keep saying children as if Tyler wasn’t there too.”

I turned to her.

“Tyler came to my house and apologized.”

The color drained from Brent’s face.

“What?”

Cassandra whispered, “He was ashamed.”

Brent slammed his palm on the table. “He had no right.”

“To be ashamed?” I asked.

“To go behind my back!”