“Mom, are you comfortable with the $8,000 Lauren sends you every month?” my millionaire son asked on Mother’s Day. I looked at the can of soup on my table and almost laughed. “Jared, I’ve been getting my food from the church pantry.” His face went completely blank. Lauren had told him I lived in a private senior residence. She had told him everything was taken care of. She had forgotten one thing: I had spent forty years auditing money.

Chapter 1: The Blood on the Altar of Illusion
There is a profound, insidious danger in willingly stepping into a cage just because the bars are painted gold. You convince yourself that the heavy, iron lock on the outside is meant to keep the predators out, completely and blissfully blinding yourself to the horrifying reality that you have voluntarily locked yourself inside with the beast. You mistake isolation for safety. You mistake financial control for provision. You mistake the absence of immediate physical violence for love.