When she lost her rental, I was told to let her use my guest bedroom.

When I refused, everyone called me selfish.

I’d eventually changed the access codes because I no longer trusted them to respect my boundaries.

Apparently, they’d decided that a locked door was merely another obstacle.

My father opened the envelope.

Inside were notices concerning their unauthorized entry, property damage, and restrictions on future access.

But the final document was different.

It concerned my late grandmother, Hazel.

Dad stopped reading.

Mom snatched the pages from his hands.

Then she looked directly at the camera.

“Marissa, where did you get this?”

“Grandma’s attorney.”

Paige frowned.

“What does Grandma have to do with any of this?”

I took a slow breath.

“More than you realize.”

Grandma Hazel had been the only adult in our family who never made me feel guilty for wanting independence.

She encouraged me to study, work hard, and build a life of my own.