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.

Amanda stared at me. For a moment, she looked panicked.

Then her face became smooth again.

“I’m saying you misunderstood me because you were emotional.”

“I didn’t misunderstand anything,” I said, and pulled out my phone.

“Ruth recorded it. Would you like to hear it?”

I was lying. Ruth hadn’t recorded anything.

But I wanted to see Amanda’s reaction, and her face went white with fear for just a second.

“That’s illegal,” Amanda said quickly. “You can’t record people without permission in Washington state.”

“Actually,” I said calmly, “I believe Washington allows recording if one person knows about it.”

That was what I said in the moment. But the law wasn’t the point.

“This isn’t about that,” I continued. “The point is: you showed who you really are at that wedding, Amanda. And I responded by taking back money that was mine to give or not give.”