I married a millionaire so I could pay for my son’s surgery — that night, he told me, “Now you’re finally going to learn what you really signed up for.”

Vivien came in almost every afternoon, always impeccably dressed, her pearls clicking around her neck, and a lawyer hot on her heels.

“Daddy, we just need your signature,” she said gently. “It’s about Eleanor’s care plan. We found a more affordable facility.”