Three days later, my mother called my mobile.
I almost didn’t answer. But Helena had told me to take any calls and keep her on speaker so we could document everything.
“You will withdraw that complaint immediately,” my mother hissed without any greeting. “You’re destroying your sister’s wedding. You’re tearing this family apart over nothing.”
Helena, sitting across from me in her office, gestured for me to keep her talking.
“Mom,” I said, keeping my voice even and calm, “did you make transfers from my bank account to pay for Brianna’s wedding?”
There was a pause. I could almost hear her calculating, trying to figure out what I knew and what I could prove.
“Of course I did,” she finally replied, her voice taking on a defensive edge. “You lived under my roof for years. Your money belonged to the family. That’s
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