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.

“She forged your signature,” Thomas said, looking at the papers. “This is identity theft. This is fraud, Helen. This is a serious crime.”

“Can we prove it was her and not someone else?” I asked.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “We have her on camera. We have the forged documents.”

Then he pulled up something on his computer.

“The bank employee wrote notes. Amanda said she was your daughter-in-law. She said you had a mental breakdown and needed family help managing your money.”

It felt ice-cold inside my chest.

“She’s getting more desperate,” I said.

“No,” Thomas corrected. “She’s getting caught.”

Then Thomas leaned forward.

“Helen, we need to call the police now.”

“Not yet,” I said. “I need to tell Daniel first.”

I called my son from Thomas’s office.

“Daniel, I need you to come to Thomas Park’s office right now. It’s an emergency.”

“Mom, I’m at work—”