The Coleman family had never been what one would call “harmonious.” Their gatherings usually involved shouting matches, someone storming out, and the occasional headbutt. But their elderly father, Patrick Coleman, still held onto the hopeless dream of bringing his five children together. It was a futile effort, considering his second eldest, Roberta, had spent the last two decades treating his bank account like an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Patrick sat at the kitchen table, his once-bright blue eyes dulled with the exhaustion of a man whose children treated sibling rivalry like a contact sport. “You need to cut her off, Dad,” Fionn said, lounging in the chair opposite. As the youngest, he was Patrick’s only son and the last hope for sensible conversation. “She’s been siphoning your money for years.” “Fionn, she’s had a rough time,” Patrick sighed. “A rough time?” Fionn scoffed. “She married for money, pawned off diamonds to make her ring bigger, and paid her gobshite son’s drug debts with your savings.” Patrick shifted uncomfortably. “She says the money will be paid back.” “Oh, sure. Right after she wins the lottery.” Gloria, the eldest, stormed in. “Where is she?” “Who?” Patrick asked, though he knew exactly who. “That vulture, Roberta. I’m here to get your bloody money back.” “Gloria, please lower your voice,” Sheila interjected meekly, sliding in like a shadow. As always, she was Switzerland—neutral, uninvolved, and ultimately useless. “Oh, shut up, Swiss Sheila. Do you even have an opinion, or are you just waiting for Roberta to tell you what to think?” Sheila gasped but said nothing. As expected. Kelly entered, cackling, wine bottle in hand. “If Gloria head butts anyone tonight, I’m recording it for posterity.” “I head butted you once, Kelly. Once. And you deserved it.” “Best family event we ever had,” Fionn grinned. Roberta finally arrived, flouncing in with the air of a woman convinced of her innocence. “I don’t know why you’re all attacking me. I’ve done nothing wrong.” “Oh, of course,” Gloria snapped. “That’s why Dad’s account has more withdrawals than a dodgy charity fund.” “This is harassment!” Roberta whined. “I have my own money!” “No, you have your husband’s money,” Kelly cut in. “You actually admitted to using Dad’s card for that Portugal trip. Who do you think you’re fooling?” “And Majorca,” Gloria added. “Buying rounds with Dad’s card, then asking him for €700 to sleep on a pull-out bed? Greedy hole.” Patrick groaned. “I just want us all to get along.” “Not happening,” Fionn and Gloria said in unison. Patrick’s phone rang. His expression darkened as he listened. “That was the bank,” he muttered. “They identified who’s been withdrawing cash from my account.”
The room fell silent. Even Sheila looked vaguely interested. Roberta sat beside Patrick, holding his hand with a tenderness that made Fionn want to throw up. She had convinced their father to give her his bank card to “manage his expenses.” Instead, she had been treating herself to spa days and shopping sprees. Fionn had come prepared. “You know, Roberta,” he began, oozing charm, “I’ve been thinking about how hard you work managing Dad’s money.” Roberta’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not easy, Fionn. I do my best.” “Of course,” he said smoothly. “Which is why I found it interesting when I went through Dad’s bank statements.” Patrick frowned. “Bank statements?” “Yes, Dad.” Fionn placed a folder on the table. “See, I noticed a pattern—cash withdrawals, always in round numbers, near luxury boutiques, spas, and, funnily enough, that overpriced hair salon Roberta loves.” Roberta’s face turned red. “How dare you accuse me—” “Oh, I’m not accusing you,” Fionn interrupted. “The ATMs and post office did that for me.” He pulled out printed screenshots from the CCTV footage he had acquired. There, in glorious high resolution, was Roberta, withdrawing money from multiple ATMs and waltzing into the post office with their father’s card.
The timestamps matched every suspicious transaction. Silence. Even Sheila looked mildly engaged. Patrick’s frail hands gripped the table. “Roberta… tell me this isn’t true.” Roberta opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish, scrambling for a lie, but the evidence was damning. Kelly burst into laughter. “Oh, this is priceless! The queen of manipulation caught in 4K! What’s the excuse now? Sleepwalking into the post office?” Gloria leaned back, smug. “Guess the free ride’s over.” Fionn crossed his arms. “Dad, I suggest we go to the bank tomorrow and remove Roberta’s access. And maybe file a report while we’re at it.” Patrick, though heartbroken, nodded solemnly. “I trusted you, Roberta.” Realising the game was up, Roberta let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine! I took the money. But it was for Dad’s benefit too! He enjoys the good life, don’t you, Dad?” Patrick scowled. “I enjoy my money staying in my account.” Defeated, Roberta grabbed her purse and stormed out, muttering about “ungrateful siblings” and “always being the victim.” As the door slammed shut, Gloria raised her glass. “To justice.” Kelly clinked her glass against Gloria’s, smirking. “And to the poor CCTV operator who had to watch Roberta rob our father in 4K.” “What’s that on the floor, it fell out of Roberta’s bag” said Kelly as she picked it up. “Oh look, it’s her platinum AMEX, the one connected to the husbands corporate account.” Fionn stretched his arms above his head and declared. “I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m absolutely starving. I’ve a real craving for those oysters they served as canapés in that ridiculously expensive restaurant in Portugal.” They all looked at each other in turn with smiling eyes and straight faces. Swiss Shiela was looking at the floor.
