“Cash or Card?” My Daughter-in-Law Asked Coldly After Dinner – Treating Me Like I Was Just Her Personal Wallet.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I… I didn’t think it would be like this.” I turned around then and looked at him. My son, my baby, the boy who had grown up in my arms.

“You didn’t think what? You didn’t think it was wrong to let me live in a storage room?” “You didn’t think $200 a month wasn’t enough? Or did you just not think about me at all?” Ryan opened his mouth, then closed it; tears were rolling down his cheeks.

“Jessica said you were fine, that you were comfortable. I… I believed her.” “You believed her because it was easier. Because if you admitted the truth, you would have to do something about it.” “And doing something meant standing up to your wife. It meant choosing between her and me. And we both know who you chose.”

I put the suitcases in the trunk of Eleanor’s car. Ryan followed me. “Mom, let me fix this. We can… we can do something. You can move back into your room. We can give you more money.”

“I don’t want your charity, Ryan. I want my house.” “I want what was mine by right. And if you don’t give it to me voluntarily, I’m going to get it back another way.” I got in the car.

Eleanor started the engine. As we drove away, I looked in the side mirror. Ryan was standing in the driveway alone, small like a lost little boy. But I didn’t feel pity—I only felt determination.

The Legal Battle for Dignity

We arrived at Arthur’s office at 3:00 sharp. It was a modern building downtown—marble floors, fast elevators, efficient secretaries. All very different from the world I had been living in these past few months.