directly into her bank account to cover utilities, groceries, and personal comfort, anything she wanted, no questions asked, no receipts required. For the first time in her life, I wanted my mother to spend money without doing math in her head first.
What I didn’t know was that as soon as my mother moved in, my sister Kloe and her husband Julian saw an opportunity to live a lavish lifestyle without paying a cent. Julian was a failed stock promoter who spent his days wearing expensive designer clothes funded by credit card debt, the kind of man
who talked constantly about deals that were always just about to close and never did. While Kloe worked part-time as a boutique stylist, claiming they were hit by hard financial times, they asked my mother if they could stay in the home’s guest suite for a couple of weeks until they found a new
