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.

Sienna marched in first with her makeup smearing under her eyes and her hair damp from the drizzle, carrying that look of exhausted fury she wore whenever life dared to deviate from her plans.

Her three children trailed behind her in a sad procession, with young Tessa clutching a stuffed rabbit and Hudson dragging a rolling suitcase that was clearly too heavy for his small frame.

Milo was slumped over his mother’s shoulder in a deep sleep, completely unaware of the fact that he was being used as a pawn in a power struggle between adults.

The security guard, a tall man named Frank who had worked in the building for years, stepped out from behind his desk to intercept the group.

“Good evening, ma’am, but I have been instructed to inform you that you do not have authorized access to the ninth floor tonight,” he said firmly.

Sienna came to a dead stop in the middle of the lobby floor and stared at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated disbelief.

Then her eyes shifted toward the corner of the room where I was standing with my arms crossed and my back against a marble pillar.