Just 11 minutes after I returned from the hospital with a shattered femur, my mother-in-law kicked my crutches away. Ignoring my agonized screams, she and my husband dragged me into a pitch-black garage.

The offshore accounts.”

Vivian laughed.

“That limping little mouse? Please. She can barely stand. You think she has the courage for a corporate legal fight? She’s weak. She depends on you. By the time we’re finished, she won’t even remember what a balance sheet looks like.”

My eyes opened.

The fear evaporated.

That limping little mouse.

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