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.

I stepped inside and was met with complete chaos.

Tommy and Emma were darting around the living room, Marcus was hauling boxes upstairs, and Sandra stood in the middle of it all, barking orders like she owned the place.

“What’s going on?” I asked, standing in the doorway with my overnight bag.

Everyone stopped and stared. My parents came out of the kitchen, looking guilty.

Marcus set down his box. “Hey, sis. So, there’s been a change of plans. I lost my job, and we can’t afford rent anymore.”

I looked around at all the boxes and furniture. “So, you’re staying here?”

“Just temporarily,” Marcus said. “Until I find something new.”

Sandra walked over with a fake, tight smile. “We really appreciate you letting us stay here. Of course, we’ll need to make some adjustments. Your room would be perfect for the kids. You can move into the small room at the end of the hall.”

“I’m not moving out of my room,” I said firmly. “I work from home. I need my computer setup and good internet.”

Sandra’s smile vanished. “Well, I think the children’s needs should come first.”

“And I’m the one paying the mortgage and bills,” I shot back.