At my son’s wedding in Seattle, the bride looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Starting tomorrow, you’re no longer part of this family. I’m the boss now—not you.” I smiled, walked away like it didn’t hurt, and canceled the $80,000 I’d promised for their first home—right there at the reception, while the music was still playing.

Thomas started writing notes.

“What kind of rules do you want?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said. “But I won’t let her take control of money I spent 35 years earning.”

When I left his office, my phone rang.

It was Daniel.

My heart jumped.

“Mom.” His voice sounded tired and stressed. “We need to talk. Amanda told me you canceled the payment.”

“I’m sure she told you her version of what happened,” I said carefully. “Can I tell you mine?”

“Can you come to our apartment tonight at seven?” he asked.

Our apartment.

He already said our, not my—how fast she had changed things.

“I’ll be there,” I said.

I had nine hours to get ready. Nine hours to decide how much truth to tell Daniel, because I was starting to understand something scary.

Amanda hadn’t just married Daniel.

She had been planning this for many months.