After I gave birth, my wealthy father came to visit me in the private recovery room. He looked proud, holding a bouquet that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent. Smiling softly, he asked, “Sweetheart, isn’t four thousand dollars a month enough for you?” I was genuinely confused. I’d just come out of a long labor, my body exhausted, my mind foggy. “What money, Dad?” I asked. His smile faded instantly. His jaw tightened. Behind him, my husband Daniel went rigid, and my mother-in-law

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