I canceled my trip to keep an eye on my inherited apartment and discovered my family moving in with a locksmith: “She’ll only cry for a few days,” they said… but they didn’t know the police were already on their way.

From that window, you could see the entire sprawl of the city, the twinkling lights of the business district, and the green canopy of the park.

This was the very room where he had spent hours teaching me the complexities of chess and making me cups of incredibly strong coffee.

“Never warn your enemy that you have already anticipated their next move,” he had told me during one of our final games together.

Grandfather Arthur was the only person who had bothered to show up and applaud when I walked across the stage at my university graduation.

My parents had sent a brief text message saying they were far too busy hosting a celebratory dinner party for one of Chloe’s minor achievements.

But Arthur had been there in the front row, holding a massive bouquet of lilies with tears of genuine pride shining in his eyes.

Sitting in his old velvet chair that night, I finally stopped searching for the love and approval of a family that saw me only as a resource.

The following Sunday, I went to lunch at my parents’ house and performed the role of the dutiful, oblivious daughter perfectly.