I hired a new head chef to replace Vincent. On top of managing the restaurant, I had to take care of his every need—feeding him, bathing him, helping him to the bathroom. In those early days, his mother and siblings still came around to check on him, and occasionally asked how I was holding up.

The first time Caroline came to me for a favor was about a month after Vincent's discharge. She took my hands, her voice earnest and pleading.

"Amanda, Godfrey just started at a new company. He needs to take his boss out for dinner. Let him use your restaurant, and make sure they're treated well."

I put together an entire table of our signature dishes.

Without asking me, Godfrey uncorked a bottle of premium whiskey.

The bill came to $2,638.

Godfrey didn't pay. He signed the tab, tossed out a casual "Thanks, sis," and left.

I told myself it was nothing. Family helped family. That's how it was supposed to work.

I thought it was a one-time thing.

But it was only the beginning.

A few days later, Godfrey brought a group of coworkers in. The tab was $1,280. Again, no payment. Just a signature and the same breezy "Thanks, sis."

The two visits combined totaled $3,918—more than what I'd been paying the dishwasher.

I slipped the dishwasher a generous bonus and gently let her go.

After that, once the restaurant closed for the night, I'd go out back and scrub every dish myself, sanitizing them one by one. By the time I finished, my back ached so badly I could barely stand upright.

But I told myself this small suffering was nothing compared to what Vincent endured, paralyzed for life. If I could help his brother get on his feet, maybe it would ease some of the guilt eating me alive.

Godfrey's tabs in the first month totaled $6,780. The second month, $5,360. After paying the chef's salary and covering rent and overhead, there was almost nothing left.

I gritted my teeth and kept going. I told myself it would get better once Godfrey was settled.

Vincent could see how exhausted I was, running the restaurant and caring for him at the same time. He suggested moving back to his mother's house to recover there.

All he asked was that I send Caroline five thousand dollars a month for household expenses.

I froze. My gaze drifted toward Godfrey, and my lips trembled.

"These past few months, Godfrey's been running up tabs without paying. I... I can't afford another five thousand on top of that."