“Universities talk.”
I closed my eyes.
“Mom.”
“Could you just explain what kind of student he is?”
“I don’t know what kind of student he is.”
“You’re his sister.”
“I know him as my brother.”
She exhaled sharply.
“They’re threatening his graduation.”
The sentence hurt despite everything.
Carter and I had never been enemies.
Mostly, we had been children trained to occupy different roles.
“Did he copy something?”
“He says he used material from a consulting report and forgot to cite it.”
“Then the review will decide.”
“We need you to help.”
“How?”
Mom lowered her voice.
“Carter says you discussed some of the business concepts with him over Christmas.”
I remembered one dinner.
He asked about waste logistics.
I explained one thing.
That was all.
“If they ask, maybe you could say some of the wording came from conversations with you.”
I became completely still.
“You want me to claim his copied language came from me.”
“I want you to support your brother.”
“That isn’t support.”
“He could lose everything.”
I looked around the lab.
My notebook.
The data.
The scholarship letter pinned above my desk.
Four years built one honest hour at a time.
“I can’t lie for him.”
There was a long pause.
Then Mom said, “You have always resented what we did for Carter.”
I almost laughed.
“You think that’s why I won’t lie?”
“I think you like finally having something he doesn’t.”
The old Delilah would have defended herself for twenty minutes.
I didn’t.
“I’m not doing it.”
“You know how much we paid for his education?”
There it was.
Money transformed into entitlement.
“I know.”
“You’d let all of that go to waste?”
“No.”
My voice stayed calm.
“Carter made a choice. He gets to deal with it.”
Mom whispered, “Unbelievable.”
I answered, “Integrity isn’t something you can borrow from your sister when yours becomes inconvenient.”
Then I ended the call.
My hands shook afterward.
Not from guilt.
From finally doing what I had spent years training myself not to do.
I let my family be disappointed.
Two days later, Carter called.
“You talked to Mom?”
“Yes.”
“She made it sound worse than it is.”
“Then tell me.”
He was quiet.
“I used a consultant’s report.”
“How much?”
“Parts.”
“How much?”
“Too much.”
There was the truth.
“Did you cite it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I was behind.”
I did not say anything.
He continued.
“Dad kept asking when I’d finish. Mom already booked the graduation dinner. I had an internship lined up.”
“Carter.”
“I know.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“I screwed up.”