## PART 3
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
Mom was resting in the small bedroom of the modest two-bedroom apartment we had just managed to rent.
I sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor of the living room, surrounded by cardboard boxes, bank records, printed statements, and legal files.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t looking at my marriage as a wife trying to save it.
I was looking at it like an investigator studying evidence.
Everything started making sense.
Three months earlier, Mom had sold a rural plot of land that belonged to my late father.
Brandon knew about the sale, even though he had never discovered exactly how much money was sitting in her personal bank account.
At first, he acted friendly and helpful.
He offered investment advice she never requested.
He spoke warmly about helping her make the money grow.
But each time Mom refused to hand over control of her savings, his friendly behavior deteriorated.
