You ruined our lives, get out!» my whole family said. So, I just left. A month later, I received 50+ missed calls. Now they know…

The furniture store had failed completely, closing its doors three weeks after I left. My father was indeed facing criminal charges, not just for gambling away business funds, but apparently for submitting fraudulent information on multiple loan applications over the years. A post from Rachel included a bitter comment about the bank taking everything because someone co-signed a loan, then abandoned us.

A transparent attempt to shift blame onto me again. But the comment section told a different story, with several former employees and family friends pointing out that the business had been in trouble long before the final loan, and that my father’s gambling had been an open secret in certain circles for years. I closed the laptop, overwhelmed.

The narrative my family had constructed the one where I was responsible for everything had publicly unraveled. The truth was exposed for anyone to see. This should have felt like vindication.

But instead, I felt hollow. Dr. Miles’s words from our most recent session echoed in my mind. Vindication rarely feels the way we expect it to.

I was still processing this information the next day when my work phone rang with an unfamiliar Portland number. Melissa Anderson, I answered professionally. Finally, Rachel’s voice came through.

Do you know how many marketing firms I’ve called trying to find you? My pulse quickened. How did you get this number? It doesn’t matter. You need to come home right now.

Dad’s case goes to court next week, and the lawyer says we need character witnesses. Plus, the bank is asking questions about that loan you… co-signed. No hello.

No how are you. No apology. Just demands and implicit accusations.

Rachel, I said carefully. I’m not coming back to Portland. What? Of course you are.

This is family. The same family that told me I ruined their lives. And to get out? There was a pause.

That was just dad being upset. You know how he gets. I do know.

I’ve always known. That’s why I left. So you’re just abandoning us when things get hard? Real mature, Melissa.

The familiar pattern of blame threatened to pull me back in, but I held firm. I didn’t create this situation, Rachel. Dad’s gambling and financial decisions did.

I’m sorry he’s in trouble, but I can’t fix this. You’re part of this whether you like it or not, she pressed. Your name is on that loan.

A loan that I advised against. That I put conditions on specifically to prevent misuse. Conditions that were ignored.

I’ve already spoken to a lawyer, of my own, about that situation. Another pause, longer this time. You got a lawyer? Yes, to protect myself.

The bank already has my statement regarding the circumstances of the loan and my father’s concealment of his gambling addiction. So you’re testifying against dad? Her voice rose in disbelief. I’m telling the truth, something our family has never been very good at.

The conversation deteriorated from there, with Rachel cycling through familiar tactics, guilt, accusations, emotional manipulation. When none of these worked, she finally resorted to threats. Fine, stay away if that’s what you want, but don’t think you can just start over with a clean slate.

We know where you work now. Don’t be surprised if your boss gets some interesting information about her new employee. A chill ran through me.

Are you threatening me? I’m just saying. Actions have consequences. You turned your back on family.

That means you’re not protected anymore. After the call ended, I sat at my desk shaking. The old Melissa would have panicked, would have capitulated to prevent whatever vague harm Rachel was threatening.

But the person I was becoming recognized, this for what it was. A desperate attempt to maintain the family dynamic, to drag me back into the role of scapegoat. Instead of giving into fear, I went directly to Veronica’s office.

Do you have a minute? I asked from her doorway. Of course. What’s up? I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath.

I need to tell you something about why I left Portland. For the next half hour, I explained the situation with my family, the business failure, my father’s legal troubles, and Rachel’s implied threat to contact Veronica with some unspecified accusations. When I finished, Veronica leaned back in her chair.

Thank you for telling me this. It can’t have been easy. I don’t want there to be any surprises…