My Mother-in-Law Forced Me and My Three Daughters to Live in a Cramped Room Beside the Laundry, Constantly Telling Me, “A Woman Who Can't Give This Family a Son Is Worthless.” The Morning She Publicly Humiliated Me in Front of Forty Charity Donors, a Billionaire Quietly Took Off His Jacket, Wrapped It Around My Shivering Girls, and Said, “They're Leaving With Me.”.352

Before we moved in, I bought yellow paint.

The girls helped.

Most of it ended up on the floor.

And on Grace.

And somehow on the dog next door.

We laughed until my stomach hurt.

For the first time since Michael died, laughter did not feel like betrayal.

The insurance money was recovered.

So was part of the money from our townhouse.

Richard helped establish trusts for the girls, although I made sure independent attorneys reviewed every document.

“I’m offended,” he said.

“You’ll survive.”

“I usually do.”

He started visiting occasionally.

Never unannounced.

He brought books, not toys.

Olivia liked him.

Grace challenged him to chess despite not knowing all the rules.

Lily called him Mr. Billionaire until I made her stop.

He pretended to be disappointed.

Almost a year after the luncheon, Margaret accepted a plea agreement.

Fraud.

Forgery.

Embezzlement.

Unlawful restraint related to the children.

She was sentenced to prison.