My grandmother’s funeral brought together relatives from every branch of the family. As people shared memories and condolences, my older sister Vanessa sat in the front row receiving sympathy and attention. I sat quietly behind her, thinking about the past five years. Every Saturday, I had visited Grandma without fail. I helped with chores, carried groceries, repaired things around the house, and spent hours listening to stories she loved to tell. Vanessa, on the other hand, rarely visited. Yet when the lawyer gathered everyone after the service and announced that Grandma’s house had been left entirely to Vanessa, I felt stunned. The home was worth nearly two million dollars, and for a moment it seemed that all my years of devotion had meant nothing.