"Honey, every time I see you running around until midnight looking for work, I can barely breathe from the heartache. If it weren't for me and the baby, you'd never have had to cut ties with your family and rough it in this tiny rental with me."

And on and on it went.

Within days, every meddling aunt and distant cousin in the family group chat descended on me like a pack of wolves.

One by one, they crawled out of the woodwork to champion James's cause.

"Pearl, treating your son and daughter-in-law like this? Karma's going to come knocking."

"Exactly! James is a grown man. He has his pride. You throw him out over one disagreement? What kind of mother does that? If you ask me, you're worse than a stepmother."

"Favoring your daughter over your son is a disgrace. The Sullivan family won't stand by while you pull this kind of nonsense."

I scrolled through the barrage of messages calling me selfish, a faint, cold smile curling at the corner of my lips.

Then a text from James caught my eye.

The gist: he'd arranged a dinner that evening. Meryl's parents had traveled all the way from their hometown, and both families would sit down together for a meal. Consider it a modest wedding celebration.

I made a point of looking up the restaurant. The kind of place where a single plate ran four figures.

So that was his game. To save face in front of the in-laws, James really could swallow his pride when it suited him.

At the end of the message, he hinted, ever so delicately, that money was tight. Would I be so kind as to pick up the tab?

That afternoon, I left work right on time, brought Madge along, and headed to the dinner.

The moment I pushed open the private dining room door, a thick wave of liquor and greasy meat hit me full in the face.

"Well, well! You must be the in-law we've been waiting for! We've been counting the days, and here you finally are!"

"My little Meryl kept saying her mother-in-law was impossible to please. I didn't believe it at first, but now I've seen it with my own eyes."

I looked up. Across the table sat a woman with a pinched, mean face.

Her beady eyes were locked on the jade bracelet around my wrist, glittering with naked greed.

Beside her, a balding man who looked about fifty was hunched over a braised pork knuckle, gnawing at it with abandon. Grease slid down his chin and soaked into his collar.