I secretly bought my dream house worth $1 million after 6 years of hard work. On moving day, I saw my sister’s husband and his family with the movers, trying to move their belongings inside. I smiled and politely invited them in. Then they suddenly stopped short, “Wait! This is not what we were told.”

Then came the display cabinet. Lucy’s too. My stomach tightened.

“More to the right!” a man shouted from the terrace. “Don’t scratch it. This is my new office and home, you know.”

The voice belonged to my brother-in-law, Steve Watson.

He stood near the open terrace doors wearing a navy blazer over a T-shirt, sunglasses pushed onto his head, one hand holding a paper coffee cup as if he were supervising a corporate relocation. Steve had always dressed like a man being followed by imaginary cameras. He called himself a founder, a visionary, a builder, an innovator.

What he had never been able to call himself, with any proof behind it, was successful. His first big idea had been crypto mining. His second had been an upscale vegan restaurant with marble tables, gold flatware, and menu prices that made even my parents blink.

His third had been a subscription app for luxury pet wellness. Now, apparently, it was AI consulting. Each business arrived wrapped in language so shiny my mother forgot to ask basic questions.