I was standing at the kitchen counter when Patricia’s name lit up my phone. Mark was still at work and the kids were at school. The dishwasher was running behind me and I could smell the lemon from the soap I had just added. I let it ring twice before I answered.

“Elena, sweetheart,” she said in that voice she uses when she needs something. “Derek’s startup needs a push. The bank wants a house for security and you two are the only ones with any equity left.”

She didn’t ask how we were doing. She never does. Derek had already burned through two loans from her that she just wrote off as family help. This time she wanted a hundred and eighty thousand from our refinance.

I asked how long we would have to carry it. She said six months tops because Derek had a buyer lined up. I said yes before she even finished talking. She laughed and told me I was finally acting like real family.

The papers showed up two days later. I sat at the dining table with a pen and changed the collateral line on page four to list her paid-off house in Scottsdale instead of ours. The notary just nodded and stamped everything. Patricia signed without reading past the last page like she always does.

Three weeks later Derek missed the first payment. The bank called me first and I told them exactly where to send the demand letter. Patricia showed up at our door that Friday looking blotchy and mad. “You set me up,” she said. “Your own mother-in-law.”

I kept my hand on the doorframe. “You told me blood helps blood,” I said. “I just made sure it was yours.”

She started crying that loud crying she always does around Mark. I closed the door before she could finish.

The next morning I drove to the credit union and moved every dollar from the refinance into an account with only my name on it. Then I called the lawyer whose card I had kept in my wallet since our wedding. He answered on the second ring and said he had been wondering when I would call.

I told him the loan was already in default and Patricia’s house was now on the line. He asked if I wanted to proceed with the foreclosure notice. I looked out at the cactus garden Mark had planted for me the year we bought this place. “Yes,” I said. “Today.”

The first letter arrived the following Monday. Patricia called Mark seventeen times. He didn’t answer any of them. I was washing dinner dishes when the second letter came certified. Mark came home early looking pale. “Mom says you’re trying to take her house,” he said.

I dried my hands on the towel. “She took our future first.”