When Arthur questioned Fiona about it, she offered the excuse of a woman who had never once thought about where anything came from.

“I thought my brother was giving me a gift,” she said.

“With whose money?” Arthur asked.

And Fiona had no answer, because the answer was mine: my money, drained from the account meant to feed and clothe and care for my daughter, spent instead on salon chairs, while that same daughter stood in front of an empty refrigerator.

The Department of Child Services, having seen all of it, issued its ruling: Chloe would remain in my sole custody, with George restricted to professional, court-supervised visitation.

The law, at last, was doing what the family had refused to do.