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.

“Which I explained were misunderstandings and false accusations,” Amanda said.

She stood and walked even closer, eyes sharp.

“You think you’re so smart. You think you won because Daniel had lunch with you. But he came home, Helen. He came home to me.”

“He sleeps in my bed. He wears the wedding ring I gave him. And at the end of the day, I’m the one who has him.”

“Amanda,” Barbara warned her.

But Amanda was past caring now. Her face turned mean, ugly.

“You want to know what Daniel said last night? He said, ‘Maybe Mom is right about some things, but I can’t leave my wife.’”

She smiled like victory.

“Do you understand what that means? It means even when he knows I’m not perfect, even when he has doubts, he still picks me because I’m his wife now.”

“Because I have legal rights. Because I’m in his house, in his bed, and in his bank accounts.”