Grandpa stopped eating when he found out I was paying my parents rent while my sister lived there for free with her two kids.

And every month, I handed Dad eight hundred dollars.
Grandpa’s fingers tapped once against the table. “Ethan, do you have savings?”
I looked down. “Not much.”
“How much?”
“About eleven hundred.”
Grandpa closed his eyes.
Dad scoffed. “That’s because he wastes money.”
I almost laughed. “On what?”
Dad pointed toward the basement door. “Games. Takeout. Whatever you do down there.”
“I haven’t bought a new game in two years. I eat takeout once a week because nobody saves dinner for me when I work late.”
Grandma’s eyes moved to Mom.
Mom looked away.
Grandpa stood. “Get your coat.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re coming with us tonight.”
Dad’s chair scraped back. “Absolutely not.”
Grandpa turned to him. “He is twenty-six years old.”
“He lives under my roof.”
Grandpa’s voice turned cold. “And that roof was paid for with help from me. Don’t test my memory, Richard.”
For the first time all night, Dad had nothing to say.
Grandpa looked at me. “Pack what you need for a few days. Tomorrow, we talk about the rest.”
Mom started crying harder. “You’re breaking this family apart.”
Grandpa looked at her sadly.
“No, Linda. I’m just opening the basement door.”