“Sign over the house or the wedding is off!” she demanded. I refused. My son told me to apologize or leave. I smiled, walked out, and days later, their calls never stopped.

By Friday, the situation had escalated from a crisis to a full-blown catastrophe.

I was sitting in my attorney's office when my phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unknown number. I answered it. It was Susan, Chloe’s mother.

"Eleanor! Thank god I got ahold of you," Susan practically gasped into the phone. "Listen, we need to clear up this silly misunderstanding. The florist is threatening to sue me! You need to wire the fifty thousand for the reception right away."

I laughed softly. "Susan, you explicitly told everyone at the engagement dinner that you and your husband were graciously covering the reception."

"Well, yes, for appearances! But David promised to reimburse us through his trust! We put the deposits on our credit cards, Eleanor. We are maxed out! If you don't pay this, we will lose our own house!"

Ah. There it was. The truth. Chloe hadn't just been after my house; her entire family was banking on David's wealth to bail them out of their own financial ruin.

"I am not responsible for your financial decisions, Susan," I said firmly. "Nor am I responsible for David's empty promises. My son demanded I sign over my home to your daughter, and when I refused, he kicked me out. I suggest you ask Chloe to sell some of her designer bags to pay the florist."