My mother-in-law blocked the entrance to my new apartment and screamed that her son had bought it for her, ordering me to leave.

need admiration,” she said. “You can’t treat him like a coworker.”

“I don’t.”

She smiled sadly. “You do, dear. All these questions about budgets and timelines. You make him feel small.”

Blake had just used my credit card to pay for a business coach who promised to help him “activate investor consciousness.”

I did not say that.

I smiled and refilled the continue reading …