I don’t deal well with people who confuse kindness for servitude. And my sister, Daphna, had turned that confusion into a lifestyle. She decided that because I was single and worked from home, I was automatically the live-in nanny she never hired. The morning she dropped her kids on my doorstep before sunrise for the fifth time in a week, something twisted in me—not anger, not frustration, but resolve. If she was going to treat me like unpaid labor, she was about to learn exactly what that cost. I’m Amy—thirty, single, self-employed, and apparently in my sister’s eyes, available 24/7....
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