I should have known better than to try it. My father was an accountant, and if anyone could spot an extra zero where it didn’t belong, it was him.

He sat at the dining table, glasses perched on his nose, my school expense list in his hands. I watched his eyes move slowly, scanning each figure. Then, he stopped. Blinked. Adjusted his glasses.

"Three hundred and fifty thousand naira for tuition?" His voice was calm, too calm.

I cleared my throat. "School fees increase every session, Papa. The economy is tough."

He leaned back, locking eyes with me. "Last session, I paid a little over a hundred thousand. Did you transfer to a private university inside your public university?"

Before I could respond, Mama walked in, wiping her hands on her wrapper. "What’s happening?"

Papa handed her the paper. "Your son is trying to enroll in Harvard from Awka."

Mama’s eyes darted over the figures, and she gasped. "Fifty-five thousand for departmental dues? Did your department rent a duplex?"

I shifted in my seat. "There are new levies, Mama. Lab fees, research materials…"

Papa wasn’t done. "Seventy thousand for hostel maintenance? But you live off-campus!"

"It’s… compulsory," I mumbled.

Mama sighed. "Lamma, if you needed extra, why not just ask? We are struggling, but we would find a way."

Papa shook his head. "Instead, you inflated figures like a dubious contractor. You must be stupid."

I looked away, biting my lip. They didn’t understand.

How could I explain that instead of my upkeep increasing as everything got more expensive, it was being cut down? That I went to bed hungry more often than I admitted? That I juggled school with side hustles, but I couldn’t tell them because they’d order me to stop and focus on my studies—expecting me to magically pull out good grades while starving?

How could I say that?

Instead, I forced a smile. "Maybe I added one or two extra zeroes…"

Papa raised an eyebrow. "One or two?"

Mama shook her head. "Hmm. If you carry this habit outside, EFCC will carry you one day."

I exhaled, defeated. "I was just… trying my luck."

Papa slid the list back to me. "Try your luck inside the kitchen. Go and cook what we'll eat tonight."

And just like that, my little scam ended where all scams should—with house chores.