I also found texts where Paige begged for money — designer clothes, expensive dinners, truck payments — and my mother’s replies: “Don’t worry, dear, your brother deposits more on Friday.”

My grueling labor wasn’t support to them. It was a bottomless account they were sure they controlled.

Two days later, Paige threw herself a birthday party with a crowd of well-off friends up from Kansas City.

My mother made Gwen spend the whole day cooking — smoked pork, roast chicken, salads, three enormous pots of beef stew.

When a guest asked who the frail woman in the kitchen was, Paige laughed.

“Oh, that’s just my sister-in-law,” she said. “My brother’s completely sick of supporting her lazy existence.”