Weeks blurred together in airports, hotel rooms, private meetings, and contract negotiations.

While I was away, my mother, Evelyn, moved into our home temporarily after knee surgery.

My younger sister, Chloe, arrived several days later to “help her recover.”

The arrangement was supposed to last a few weeks.

Five months later, both of them were still there.

I never thought much about it.

That was my first mistake.

The second happened when Mariana called me one evening while I was attending a business conference in Chicago.

She answered our video call from a dim room I did not recognize.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“At home.”

“That isn’t our bedroom.”

Her eyes shifted slightly.

“I’m just organizing a few things in the back.”