For thirty years, I've been the perfect Mrs. Morrison. Until that night when I heard my son Dylan publicly humiliate Della at the Country Club—the orphan I rescued ten years ago, who's become more of a daughter to me than my own son ever was.
"This is what happens when you adopt stray cats," he said.
When I waited for my husband Theo to defend us, he coldly replied: "Divorce it is, then. I'm tired of settling anyway."
In that moment, Della and I made the same decision: divorce.
The 54-year-old me and 29-year-old her left the Morrison mansion with four suitcases, moving into a lakeside cabin. The men thought we'd come crawling back within days—after all, we were just two women "without financial resources."
But when we started investigating the family finances, we discovered $150,000 in mysterious expenses. All flowing to one woman—Theo's college classmate, Becca Sterling.
Cancer treatment I could understand, but when I overheard what Theo said to her at the hospital... I realized I didn't know the man I'd shared a bed with for thirty years.

My Daughter-in-Law and I Got Divorced Together

I spread all the bank statements across our small dining table, credit card bills scattered alongside those tucked-away receipts. Della sat across from me, her laptop open to a spreadsheet.
"Okay," she said, typing rapidly. "Let's organize everything we found."
"Medical-related expenses," I read f...

Chapter 5