At midnight my sister tried to bring her three children into my apartment with my mother’s key, but when she yelled at me “family helps each other”, I had already changed the lock and was waiting for her downstairs to put a stop to it.

I sat down at a picnic table with the children and watched as they happily inhaled grilled cheese sandwiches and chocolate milkshakes.

Tessa eventually sat next to me and looked at me with that deep, observant gaze that children often have when they sense something is wrong.

“My mommy said you were being mean last night and that you didn’t want us to stay with you because you were mad at us,” she said quietly.

I felt a surge of frustration toward Sienna for poisoning the kids’ minds, but I kept my voice steady as I spoke to my niece.

“I was never mad at you or your brothers, Tessa, but sometimes grown-ups have to say no when someone tries to do something without asking first,” I explained.

“I wanted you to have a big, comfortable bed at the hotel instead of sleeping on my floor, and that was my way of taking care of you.”

She seemed to consider this for a moment before she nodded and went back to her sandwich, seemingly satisfied with my answer.

When the lunch was over and Desmond walked the kids back to the car, Sienna finally opened her door and stood behind the metal frame.