I'd only ever told one person about that money—and that person was Isabel.
I never expected her to turn around and tell Arnold.
My hands trembled.
Something told me they were hiding more from me.
"That money is for my daughter's education. I will never touch it!"
The color drained from my daughter's face when she heard me.
She tugged hard at my sleeve.
"Dad, I don't have to go to school!"
"But you have to buy Uncle Arnold a house!"
"What nonsense are you talking about?!"
I stared at this girl—the daughter I'd held in the palm of my hand and raised for seventeen years. I couldn't believe those words had come out of her mouth.
But she stepped closer, her voice dropping so low only I could hear.
"Dad, trust me. Just this once."
"Don't ask questions. Just keep playing the red envelope game."
She'd never asked me for anything like this before.
My heart hammered with uncertainty.
Did she know something I didn't?
I closed my eyes. "Fine. I'll do it."
Arnold's voice shook with barely contained excitement.
"Brother-in-law, you really are the best brother-in-law a man could ask for!"
"As soon as the holiday's over, we'll go house shopping. No backing out!"
My daughter cut him off.
"Uncle Arnold, the game isn't over yet. It's my dad's turn to send a red envelope."
Catching the look in her eyes, I pulled out my phone and sent a red envelope into the group chat.
Seconds ticked by.
The group chat was eerily silent.
After a long pause, the only notification that popped up was my daughter claiming the envelope.
I let out a bitter laugh. "What's this? When it's my turn to send one, suddenly nobody wants to play?"
Arnold was the first to recover, forcing out a dry chuckle.
"Of course we do. Hang on."
The others exchanged glances and picked up their phones one by one.
Soon enough, the system showed the envelope had been claimed.
I tapped on the details—and my blood ran cold.
A one-dollar lucky draw envelope, split among five people.
Every single person got exactly twenty cents.
Not a penny more. Not a penny less.
Nanette clapped her hands and laughed. "Oh my, our luck tonight is just terrible! Not a single lucky winner!"
Nicholas chuckled along. "Guess this round's a wash, then."
I turned to my daughter in shock, but her expression was perfectly calm.
This was a lucky draw envelope—the whole point was that amounts were random. And every single person had gotten the exact same share.
Was that probability even possible?
"Something's off. I'm sending another one."
"Off? What's off?"
Arnold erupted.
"Brother-in-law, rules are rules! No lucky winner means the round is void. You don't get a do-over!"
"Where's your sportsmanship?!"
Isabel shot me an impatient look.
"Leslie, what is wrong with you tonight?"
"It was a perfectly good New Year's dinner, and you've ruined it!"
The more I thought about it, the less any of it added up. I turned to my daughter.
"Sweetheart, you send one in the group. Let's see what happens."
Isabel stepped directly in front of her, blocking her.
"Leslie, this is a game for adults. She has no business being part of it!"
My mind was a tangled mess.
But now I understood—completely. This whole thing was a setup. Every last one of them had been in on it.
I turned to leave.
Isabel grabbed my arm.
"It's New Year's Eve. Where do you think you're going?"
My fists clenched slowly at my sides.
Fine. Consider this game the price of seeing people for who they really are.
But just as I thought it was over, my daughter seized my arm again.
"Dad, keep playing!"
"You have to keep playing with them!"
In seventeen years, my daughter had never once talked back to me. Not a single word.
