My 36-year-old son called me a freeloader during Sunday dinner, even though he, his wife, and their child had lived in my house rent-free for two years.

That was when I realized something had to change.

“Twenty-four hours,” I repeated.

That night, I sat at my late husband’s desk and reviewed two years of financial records.

I discovered restaurant bills, golf expenses, luxury purchases, and countless charges Daniel had placed on my credit card.

Then I calculated the extra groceries, utilities, insurance, and other expenses.

The total was $38,940.

Almost forty thousand dollars.

And that didn’t include the mortgage.

I immediately canceled Daniel’s authorized credit card, removed him from my car insurance, and discontinued subscriptions I’d been paying for.

The next morning, Daniel reached for the SUV keys.

The hook was empty.

“Mom, where are my keys?”

“In my pocket.”

“I’m going to be late for work!”

“Then you’d better catch the bus.”

He stared at me.

“That’s my car!”

“No, Daniel. It’s mine. My name is on the title.”