I was struggling to walk home with my eleven-month-old baby balanced on my hip, my i:nj:ured leg aching with every step and heavy grocery bags digging into my fingers, when my father suddenly pulled his car alongside me. He lowered the window and asked, “Sweetheart, where’s your car?” When I confessed that my mother-in-law had confiscated it because she believed I wasn’t worthy of driving, his expression turned ice-cold. He opened the passenger door and said quietly, “Get in, honey. Tonight, we’re putting an end to this.”

“General Carter, I want to apologize for yesterday’s unfortunate misunderstanding.”

Dad glanced toward me.

“My daughter is the person you need to speak with.”

Linda hesitated.

“Of course. Camila, I never intended to upset you. I was simply trying to establish rules in my own home.”

I looked at the woman who had taken my keys while knowing my baby needed formula.

“Your house can have rules, Linda. But those rules don’t give you control over my money, transportation, or child.”

Her smile disappeared.

“I was only trying to teach you responsibility.”

“By taking the vehicle I pay for?”

“The registration is in Ethan’s name.”

Ethan stepped forward.

“Mom, stop. We’ve already discussed this.”She turned toward him, visibly offended.

“Are you seriously going to let your wife speak to me like that?”

“I’m not going to stop her from telling the truth.”

Richard entered carrying one end of Noah’s crib. He paused when he heard his son’s response, then quietly continued toward the front door.