When I came back from my trip, my belongings were dumped on the lawn with a note: “If you want to stay, live in the basement.” So I moved into my secret apartment instead—and stopped paying a dime. Six months later, they knocked on my door, asking to move in with me.

Months passed. I got a promotion, my savings grew, and I even started seeing someone. Life was good—really good.

Then one evening, the doorbell rang. I checked the peephole.

My stomach dropped.

There they were: Mom, Dad, Marcus, and Sandra.

I opened the door but didn’t invite them in. “How did you find me?”

“Your friend Jessica told us,” Mom said.

Sandra immediately pushed past me into my apartment. “Nice place,” she said, looking around with obvious jealousy. “Must cost a fortune.”City tours

“What do you want?” I repeated.

“Well, the thing is,” Marcus said, “I lost my job again. Two months ago.”

“And… we’re having trouble with the mortgage payments,” Dad added.

I almost laughed. “Let me guess. You want me to start paying for you again?”

“We’re family,” Mom said desperately. “We need to help each other.”

“Help each other?” I said. “When exactly have any of you helped me?”

“We’ve been thinking,” Mom continued, “and if they foreclose on the house… we’ll have to move in with you.”

I stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“Well, where else would we go?” Sandra said with that familiar smugness. “We’re family. You can’t just abandon us.”