My grandmother left me her $450,000 lakehouse and told me to protect it. While I was on a business trip, my parents secretly sold it to fund a world tour—then texted, “Thanks for making our dream come true.”

So Nana kept me.

I learned to swim off that dock. I learned to steer her old fishing skiff, even though the engine sputtered and complained every time we started it. I learned how to sit in complete silence and not feel lonely.

“This place is our anchor,” she used to tell me. “No matter what happens, this is where we steady ourselves.”

I believed her.

And I promised her I would never let anyone cut that line.