After years of favoritism, my sister tried to move into my new apartment without consent. I called the cops on her and my parents for breaking in. My younger sister Emily, 30, has just attempted something so strange that I, 34, can’t believe it. Before I get into what happened last week, I need to clarify our past so that what she did makes sense.

Emily and I grew up in what appeared to be a regular household from the outside. Our parents owned a modest accounting practice together and were well-known in our neighborhood. But within our home, things were different. Emily was born when I was four years old, and the dynamic changed right away. I moved from being the focus of attention to becoming background noise.

Emily used to have piano lessons, painting courses, and a new bike every other year. I received hand-me-downs from cousins and was instructed to be appreciative. When she decided to attend private school in 9th grade, they cobbled together the money. When I asked my father about enrolling in a summer engineering program in high school, he stated we couldn’t afford extras. Emily went to Paris on a class trip during her junior year. I worked at a supermarket to save enough for a secondhand automobile.

The tendency maintained till maturity. Emily attended a private institution where our parents paid her full tuition and rent. I attended community college and worked night jobs at a warehouse to finance my tuition. She finished with a marketing degree and returned home. That was 5 years ago. She still lives with our parents rent-free and has never worked for more than 4 months. She’s always got an excuse ready—the boss was harsh, the commute was excessively long, her abilities were insufficient for the task. Our mother constantly backed her up, claiming Emily was still figuring things out.

Emily started dating Luke, a 29-year-old male, 3 years ago. He moved into our parents’ home after 6 months. They married in a ceremony that was more expensive than my whole college education. Luke works in IT support and earns a fair living, while Emily continues to refuse to work. They discussed obtaining their own apartment, but never did anything about it. Our parents’ house is a small three-bedroom ranch, and with four people living there, it became tight. Emily continually moaned about not having enough room, but she never took any practical steps to improve the problem.

I moved out when I was 20. I shared a room in a house with three other guys and worked two jobs to meet my expenses. My parents didn’t offer to assist, and I didn’t ask. We saw each other over important holidays, which was fine with me. The less time I spent dealing with Emily’s continuous complaints and our parents’ explanations for her, the better.

In March 2020, everything came apart for me. The restaurant where I worked as a line cook closed down permanently. Three weeks later, the warehouse laid me off because orders had dried up. My roommate lost his job around the same time. We couldn’t pay the rent on our two-bedroom apartment. He returned to his hometown. I sold the majority of my furniture and everything else I could part with.

I had my old Chevy Silverado that I had bought secondhand years ago, and I discovered someone selling a slide-in camper shell for $800. It needed significant repair but was structurally sound. I set it up myself at a grocery store parking lot. I phoned my parents and asked if I could park the camper in their driveway temporarily while I searched for a job and saved money for a new place.

My father stated the driveway was full of their automobiles, Emily’s car, and Luke’s truck. My mother stated that they did not have room for me. When I explained that I’d be in the driveway in a camper, not their house, my father said I could remain provided I paid $1,500 each month. I was unemployed and trying to save every dime I could. I told them I could not afford it. In such circumstance, my father advised me to consider other options. He also noted that the camper would appear unattractive in front of their home.

Emily approached the door and giggled when she spotted the camper. She inquired if I truly intended to live in that contraption like a homeless person. Luke also came out and snapped shots with his phone. He mentioned something about it being too nice not to share.

I drove away and spent the first night in a mall parking lot. I couldn’t sleep because I kept hearing noises outside and was afraid someone was going to break into or tow my truck. Over the following few weeks, I established a routine. Daytime parking at public libraries was typically fine. Some grocery stores didn’t worry if you spent the night in the distant corner of the parking lot. I was instructed to relocate more times than I can count. Someone claimed to be from the neighborhood association and threatened to contact the police despite the fact that I was parked on a public street in a business area.

I relocated to escape difficulties. I had a little battery pack that could run a light and charge my phone, but it didn’t last long. I began carrying a long extension wire and plugging into outdoor outlets on buildings at night when no one was around. I utilized public toilets and Planet Fitness to shower. I spent my days searching for employment, reading books from the library, and watching old DVDs on a portable player I’d had since high school.

After 4 months, I was hired at a tiny manufacturing facility in a town approximately 40 minutes away from where I had been parked. The work was entry-level machine operating, but it was full-time and included benefits. My new boss’s name was Tom, and he and his brother owned the firm. The facility had an old parking lot in the back that wasn’t used anymore. Tom observed that I arrived an hour before my shift and stayed late most days. He inquired where I lived, and I told him about the camper.

He told me I could park it permanently in the rear lot if I wanted. He allowed me to run a power line from the building and offered access to a utility sink in the bathroom. In exchange, I promised to spend a few hours on Sundays doing maintenance activities. It was the best I’d had in months.

I became friends with Ryioni, the night security guard, and we would occasionally eat supper together when our shifts coincided. I worked every hour of overtime they offered. I learned to run various machinery and took on additional responsibility. After one year, Tom elevated me to shift leader. By early this year, I had been promoted again to production supervisor. My income was higher than what I had earned before the pandemic at both of my previous jobs combined.

I began seriously saving. I continued to live in the camper because I had no rent or utilities. I saved over half of my income. By June, I had saved enough for a down payment. I discovered a little two-bedroom apartment in an older building close to work. It was not fancy, but it was mine.

I signed the lease and moved in the middle of July. I did not inform my family immediately. We weren’t in frequent communication anyway. I renewed my driver’s license with my new address and spent August slowly buying furnishings and settling in. I kept things simple since I had been accustomed to living with less.

In early September, my aunt Grace called me. She’s my mother’s younger sister and one of the few relatives I’ve kept in touch with throughout the years. She claimed she had heard from my family that I had bought a new house and wanted to congratulate me. I thanked her and inquired how she had heard. She stated that Emily had written on Facebook about me obtaining an apartment and how well I was doing now.

I thought it was unusual because Emily and I didn’t speak, but I didn’t think much of it.

A week later, my cousin Sophia messaged me to ask for my new address so she could send me a housewarming present. I handed it to her and thanked her. She said she’d noticed Emily’s posts about my new house and was relieved things had improved for me.

I became inquisitive and checked Facebook for the first time in months. Emily had written many posts about me in the last two weeks. She’d written about how her brother had struggled but persevered and now had a wonderful apartment. She made it appear as if she had been supportive the entire time. Several relatives had reacted, thanking her for being a nice sister. I did not correct the record publicly, but I thought it was strange.

On a Tuesday morning three weeks ago, I departed for work around 6:30 a.m. As usual, I worked a regular shift and remained late to teach a new operator on one of the machines. I returned to my place around 7:00 that evening. When I arrived in the parking lot, I noticed Luke’s vehicle parked in a visitor space near the building door.

I walked up to my door, which was propped open with a doorstop. I heard voices inside. I stepped in and saw Emily in my living room, directing Luke and our father on where to place boxes. There were sacks and containers heaped against the wall. My bedroom door was open, and I saw that someone had put blankets on the bed. Emily was standing in the middle of the room holding her phone and shooting photos.

When she spotted me, she smiled and said they had been waiting for me to arrive home. She claimed they wanted to surprise me.

I asked what was going on. Emily stated that she and Luke were moving in. She said that the apartment had two bedrooms and I was only using one, so it made perfect sense for them to use the other room. She stated they’d pay my rent, but when I asked how much, she answered $300 each month.

My apartment’s rent was $2,000 per month.

I informed her it was not going to happen and that they needed to go. Emily’s expression shifted instantaneously. She said I was being unreasonable. She said that relatives helped each other out and that I lived in my camper for nearly a year to save money, implying that I was unconcerned about luxury. She claimed they had been confined at our parents’ place, and here was my time to do something kind for her.

Luke said that they’d already begun moving their belongings in and unpacking, so it made sense to let them stay.

I wondered how they’d gotten into my apartment in the first place. My father stated that he still had ties with local locksmiths through his company and had requested someone come out that afternoon. I looked at the door and noticed they had replaced the lock. The original lock mechanism was sitting on an adjacent box with tool marks.

I informed them they had broken into my apartment and changed the locks without authorization. I urged them to start packing everything back up and leave immediately.

Emily began weeping. She stated she couldn’t believe I was so nasty after telling everyone how proud she was of me. At that time, our mother emerged from the hall bathroom—I hadn’t even known she was present. She advised me to calm down and think about family. She mentioned that Emily and Luke needed somewhere to stay and I had room, so this was the obvious option.

I took out my phone and dialed the non-emergency police number.

Emily stopped weeping right away and asked what I was doing. I mentioned that I was reporting a break-in. Luke claimed I was overreacting. My father advised me to hang up before doing anything I would later regret. I did not hang up. I described the problem to the dispatcher and provided my address. They stated an officer would be there within 25 minutes.

Emily grabbed her pocketbook and said they should leave. Luke began gathering up crates. My father told me I was making a major mistake and would regret abandoning my family. My mother warned me that if I followed through with this, they would no longer want anything to do with me.

I replied, “That sounds okay.”

They began taking items out to the vehicle. It took them around 20 minutes to load everything. They had already left by the time the cops arrived.

The officer took my statement. I showed him my lease and ID with my current address. I showed him the old lock and emphasized that I had not given anyone permission to enter my apartment or replace the locks. I provided him the names and addresses of my parents as well as those of Emily and Luke. He stated he’d make a report and have someone from the department follow up.

He advised me to replace the locks immediately because I had no way of knowing if they had made duplicates of the new keys. I phoned a locksmith that night and had new locks fitted the next morning before heading to work.

That night, I received 17 texts from various family members. The majority were from folks I barely knew. They warned me not to contact the police because it would shame the family. They said Emily and Luke merely wanted help. They called me selfish for not sharing when I had additional space. A few family, notably Aunt Grace, supported me, but the majority seemed to believe I had overreacted.

Emily posted on Facebook that night. She stated that she attempted to reach out to her brother for assistance but was refused. She stated she thought I had changed, but it was evident that I was still the same selfish person I had always been. She said that she and Luke were struggling but doing their best. The message drew scores of supportive remarks.

I did not answer publicly, but I did send a private message to three of my cousins with the complete story. They were startled when I informed them about the break-in and the new locks. Over the next several days, word traveled around the family about what had transpired. The story began to alter. My aunt Grace commented on Emily’s Facebook post, wondering whether it was true that they had broken into my apartment without permission.

Emily erased the entire post after that.