Eric approached me one last time. “Can we talk?”

“We are talking.”

His eyes lingered on my injuries, then dropped. “I messed this up.”

“Yes.”

“I thought if I kept Mom calm, things would settle.”

“You didn’t keep her calm. You made her comfortable while she disrespected me, used my money, and treated my home like hers.”

He swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

There it was—the question he should have asked a year earlier.

“I want a signed separation agreement. Repayment for every unauthorized charge. A written statement about what happened. And I want you to understand that whether this marriage survives depends on what you do next—not what you say right now.”

He nodded slowly.

From the driveway, Diane shouted, “Eric, don’t you dare side with her!”

He closed his eyes.

Then said, without turning around, “Mom, stop.”

It was the first decent thing he had done in months.