I never planned on getting a credit card. Growing up, I saw my parents fight about money, and I promised myself I’d never be in that situation. But at 22, juggling college classes and living at home, I applied for a credit card to build my credit. I researched carefully, picked one designed for students, and used it responsibly. I only made two small charges—textbooks and groceries—and paid them off immediately. I only told my dad about the card. Mom, well, she can’t keep a secret, and soon after, she told my brother Mark. Mark, at 28, had a history of bad financial decisions—job hopping, never paying back borrowed money, and living beyond his means. A few days later,
I got a text from Mark. He asked to borrow my card since his and Kendra’s were maxed out. I said no. He tried to guilt-trip me, saying “family helps family,” but I wasn’t having it. The next thing I knew, Mark and Kendra showed up at my door, pushing for the card again. My mom sided with them, saying I should just help out. But I refused. A few days later, I realized my card was missing. After searching everywhere, I called the bank. They confirmed several unauthorized charges: electronics,
