I pulled up the bank’s website and entered my security code in the customer service chat box.

A green dot lit up beside Fiona’s name at the top of the chat window.

Her tiny profile picture showed her pushing her glasses up her nose.

“How can I help you this evening, Naomi?” the text prompt said.

“I need to stop a transfer,” I typed in reply.

“Which account number is it?” Fiona typed.

I entered the routing number for the joint checking account I shared with my mother.

“The three-thousand-dollar monthly payment to Margaret Carter,” I typed.