Mom’s landlord is a total jerk. He just terminated her lease out of nowhere. Completely blindsided her. She had to be out by noon today. I could not just leave her on the street, right? She is going to stay with us for a while until she gets back on her feet. You know how crazy the rental market is right now.

My eyes narrowed. Brenda lived in a luxury high-rise downtown. Landlords do not just terminate a lease out of nowhere without months of prior warnings or severe lease violations. And even if they did, Brenda supposedly had plenty of money. She bragged constantly about her stock portfolio and her early retirement.

‘Where is she?’ I asked, my voice dangerously calm. ‘She is upstairs getting settled in,’ Brandon said, rushing past me through the front door. ‘Come on, be nice to her. She is really fragile right now.’ I followed him into the house, my heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. I bypassed the guest rooms on the first floor and walked up the sweeping staircase to the second level.

As I approached the master suite, I heard a loud thud followed by the sound of something dragging across the floor. I stepped into the doorway of my master bedroom and stopped dead in my tracks. Brenda was standing in the middle of my bedroom, surrounded by her unpacked boxes. But that was not what made my blood boil.

Brenda had opened my custom walk-in closet and was systematically pulling out my expensive, hard-earned leather work bags and tossing them carelessly into the hallway. My designer briefcases and totes bags I had bought to celebrate major milestones in my company were piled on the floor like discarded trash.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ I demanded, stepping into the room. Brenda did not even flinch. She turned around, looking me up and down with an expression of mild annoyance. Oh, good. You are home. She pointed a manicured finger toward the closet. You have way too much space in here, Allison.

I am moving my seasonal clothes into this section, so you need to clear out these shelves. And honestly, you should tell your housekeeper to dust the top racks. It is filthy up there. I stared at her genuinely trying to process the sheer audacity of the moment. You are throwing my belongings out of my closet in my house.

It is our house now, Allison. Brenda corrected me smoothly, waving her hand as if swatting away a fly. Brandon lives here, and soon you will be married. Family shares. Besides, I am going through a terrible crisis. I need to be comfortable. Brandon hurried into the room, setting his box down near the foot of my bed.

Mom, maybe we should put your stuff in the guest room down the hall. Absolutely not. Brenda snapped, placing her hands on her hips. The guest bed is a queen. You know I have a bad back, Brandon. I need a king-size mattress with proper lumbar support. My chiropractor specifically said so. She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes cold and calculating.

You and Brandon are young and resilient. You can take the guest room, or better yet, you can sleep on the sectional sofa in the living room tonight. Brandon and I have been moving boxes all day and he needs his rest for the wedding rehearsals tomorrow. You just sit at a desk all day anyway. I looked at Brandon waiting for him to shut this insanity down.

I waited for the man I was supposed to marry to tell his mother that she was out of her mind, that she could not commandeer the master bedroom of a house I bought with my own money, and that she certainly could not order me to sleep on the sofa. Instead, Brandon looked at the floor, rubbed the back of his neck, and offered me a pleading, pathetic look.