On My Birthday, My Sister Ordered Me Home To Feed Her Kids And Clean My House

Chapter 3
I Packed Her Life While She Expected Dinner Again Tonight

“I took today off,” I told Fiona from the restaurant. “And I had a very busy morning while you were at your networking lunch.”

“What does that have to do with dinner?”

“Everything. Because I didn’t take the day off only to celebrate. I took it off to pack.”

The line went silent.

“Pack what?”

“Your things.”

Her breathing changed. “What are you talking about?”

“I packed your clothes, the kids’ toys, and every box still sitting in my hallway. A professional moving company picked them up this morning.”

Her voice jumped an octave. “You went into my room? You touched my things?”

“I treated them much more carefully than you treated my office.”

“Where did you send them?”

I glanced at my watch. “Mom and Dad should be finding out right about now.”

“You sent everything to their house?”

“They said family helps family. Dad said you needed more support. Mom said keeping the peace mattered most. I decided you should stay where all that support is available.”

“You can’t throw me out! I live there!”

“You stayed there temporarily, Fiona. You never paid rent or utilities. I’ve taken the legal steps my attorney advised, and the notice is at the house.”

For the first time in months, she sounded frightened instead of entitled. “The kids are there right now!”

“They’re safe. I arranged for them to be picked up, and I prepaid a suite near Mom and Dad for one week. The reservation and transportation details are in your email.”

“You planned this behind my back?”

I almost laughed at the accusation.

“You used my credit card behind mine.”

“That’s different!”

“No. You just preferred it when the boundary being crossed belonged to me.”

Before she could respond, another call flashed across my screen.

Dad.

I smiled. “Speaking of support, Dad’s calling.”

“Shannon, don’t you dare hang up.”

“Dinner is on you tonight, Fiona.”

I ended the call and answered Dad.

“Why is there a moving truck unloading Fiona’s belongings into my garage?” he demanded.

“Because she needs family support.”

“This is not funny.”

“I agree.”

“You can’t simply make her our responsibility.”

I let the silence sit between us.

Then I said, “That is exactly what you told me three months ago.”

Dad had no immediate answer.

Eventually he muttered, “Your mother is very upset.”

“So was I when Fiona stole from me.”

“She didn’t steal.”

“She used my credit card without permission.”

“She intended to repay you.”

“That doesn’t create permission.”

He tried another angle. “Think about the children.”

“I did. That’s why I paid for a safe hotel while Fiona arranges housing. I am not putting them on the street.”

Dad went quiet again.

For the first time, my parents were experiencing what they had repeatedly called a small sacrifice when the sacrifice belonged to me.

And they suddenly found it enormous.