My husband wrote to me: “Don’t come. My mother doesn’t want you here.” I read it twice, because I had just paid with my own money for my mother-in-law’s new mansion.

My husband texted: “Don’t come. My mother doesn’t want you here.”

I read it twice.

Three weeks earlier, I had paid—entirely with my own money—for my mother-in-law’s new mansion. A sprawling estate outside Marbella, framed by fresh palm trees and an iron gate grand enough to mimic a boutique hotel. They said it was “for the family.” That Diana deserved it after all her sacrifices. And I, Aline Kessler, believed them. Or perhaps I chose to.

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