Derek came along later, with his insurance salesman’s smile, his neatly pressed suits, and his gift for getting along with everyone.

To his neighbors he was considerate; to his mother he was an exemplary son; to his sister, Suzanne, he was a walking ATM—a man who didn’t always have money of his own, but always had a wife to drain.

Suzanne never asked for anything small. First it was perfume, then a jacket, then $1,200 just to get through one week. Later she wanted to use Skylar’s card to pay for a nail course, a TV, and a trip to Cancún with her friends.

Every time Skylar said no, Derek changed his voice to work on her.

“Don’t be so mean, Skylar,” he’d whisper. “That’s what family is for. I don’t understand why you’re so cold when my sister has suffered so much.”

That morning, over breakfast, Derek read a message from Suzanne and gave the order without looking up from his screen.

“Suzanne says she needs your card. A payment got stuck,” he said carelessly.

“No,” Skylar replied firmly. “I’ve already lent her money three times, and she’s never paid me back.”

Derek set his cup down on the table with a heavy thud that rattled the plates.

“I’m not asking you, Skylar,” he growled.

“And I’m not negotiating, Derek,” she said, staring right back at him.

That’s when the cup flew.

As the water kept streaming down her face, Skylar caught her blurry reflection in the kitchen window. Her skin was bright red, her eyes full of tears, her mouth pressed tight to hold back her pleas.