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.

“Sit down, Barbara,” I said.

My voice came out like steel.

“I’m not finished talking.”

Something in my voice stopped her. She sat back down.

I looked at Amanda.

“I know about all the jobs you were fired from for stealing. I know about the court judgment. I know you’ve targeted successful men before. You get engaged. You try to access their money. And then you move on when they figure out what you’re doing.”

“Daniel is just your latest victim.”

Amanda’s mask fell off.

The sweet act disappeared. What replaced it was cold calculation.

“Prove it,” she said. “Prove any of it in a way Daniel will actually believe.”

She took a step closer.

“Because right now, Helen, you look like a bitter, controlling mother who can’t let go of her son. And that’s exactly what I’ve been telling him.”

“I’ve already shown him the court records,” I said.