I planned to surprise my parents for Easter with flowers and chocolates, but what I found left me speechless: my sister had taken over their home, forcing them to live in the garage.
Though I spoke to my mom daily and she always said they were fine, nothing prepared me for the shock of seeing their warm, cozy home turned cold and unrecognizable—void of memories, filled with Cassandra’s modern taste. I eventually found my parents bundled in the garage with just a cot, a stove, and folding chairs.
They called it “temporary,” saying Cassandra and her boyfriend were “fixing up” the house. I didn’t argue. I told them to pack a bag and checked them into a nice hotel for a week—somewhere warm, safe, and dignified. Then I got to work, because if Cassandra wanted to play games, she picked the wrong opponent.
