My name is Naomi Keller. I’m thirty-four, and I’ve learned the hard way that some families don’t hate you because you take something from them, but because you remind them of it, since they’ve always taken it from you.

For three years, the first day of every month followed the same pattern. My banking app. The same transfer. The same beneficiary:

$3,000 — Mom (Family Support)

It all started after my father’s death, when the mortgage on our small house outside Cleveland, Ohio, became imminently insolvent. My mother was crying in the kitchen and saying, “I don’t want to lose the house.” My brother Brent was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone and, as usual, saying nothing.

I was the one who said, “I will help.”

I was working remotely as a cybersecurity consultant: a good salary, a stable job. I could afford it, and I convinced myself it was a temporary solution. Only until Mom recovered. Only until Brent found something better. Only until things settled down.