The brass padlock hanging from my refrigerator stopped me cold when I came home after a 14-hour shift. Lorraine, my mother-in-law, stood behind me and announced that I would need permission to eat in my own house. A handwritten schedule on the counter allowed meals only between certain hours, with “No unauthorized snacks” underlined at the bottom. My husband, Daniel, stared at the floor while his mother explained that our family needed discipline. Six weeks earlier, I had agreed to let Lorraine and Daniel’s 34-year-old brother, Trevor, stay for “a couple of weeks” after they lost their housing. Since then, Lorraine had reorganized my kitchen, Trevor had taken over my office, and both had treated my car and groceries as their property.