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<\/figure>\n\n\n\nMy mother, Diane, smiled the tight smile she wore at family events where she needed to appear happier than she felt. My father, Gregory, stood beside her in a suit that pulled at his shoulders, nodding along to something my uncle was saying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We took photographs in all the standard configurations. My grandmother insisted on several of just the two of us, both of us grinning, her arm around my waist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then she asked the question that split my life into a before and an after.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNow \u2014 what are your plans? And financially, how are you managing? I know these first months after graduation can be tricky.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I gave her the honest version. Three interviews lined up. An apartment-share in Austin starting next month. Living frugally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut surely,\u201d she said, tilting her head with a small frown, \u201cyou\u2019ve been using the trust fund. That\u2019s exactly what it\u2019s there for \u2014 to help you get established.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I blinked. I was absolutely certain I had misheard her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry. The what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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\u201cYour trust fund, darling. The one I established for you when you were born.\u201d She said it the way you\u2019d mention an arrangement everyone already knew about. \u201cThree million dollars. Invested wisely, it should give you a comfortable cushion while you build your career.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The noise of the graduation party seemed to drop away. I became aware of my mother going pale, my father developing a sudden intense interest in the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGrandmother,\u201d I said slowly, \u201cI have no idea what you\u2019re talking about. What trust fund?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her expression moved through curious, then concerned, then landed somewhere harder and sharper. She looked past me at my parents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDiane. Gregory. What exactly is going on here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMother,\u201d she said, \u201cperhaps we should find somewhere more private to discuss this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo.\u201d Vivien\u2019s voice cut through the pleasant afternoon like something that had been sharpened specifically for this moment. \u201cWe discuss it here, right now. Maggie \u2014 you truly have no knowledge of this money?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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\u201cI have $842 in my checking account,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd fifty thousand dollars in student loan debt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou are my only grandchild,\u201d she said, still looking at my parents. \u201cAnd I established a trust fund for you the day you were born. Three million dollars. Your parents were named trustees until you turned twenty-one, at which point you were supposed to have full access. That was four years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father finally found his voice, though it came out rough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThis isn\u2019t the time or place for this conversation. We\u2019re at Maggie\u2019s graduation. We should be celebrating.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThen let us celebrate the fact that my granddaughter has three million dollars waiting for her,\u201d my grandmother said pleasantly. The steel underneath was impossible to miss. \u201cUnless there\u2019s some reason we can\u2019t celebrate that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The silence that followed was the loudest thing I had ever heard<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What My Parents Said When They Had No More Room to Dodge the Question
\u201cThe trust fund,\u201d my mother said finally, each word seeming to cost her. \u201cThere were some complications. Some investments that didn\u2019t perform as expected. Legal fees, taxes\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThree million dollars worth of complications,\u201d my grandmother said. Her tone could have frozen the champagne in every nearby glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMaggie, sweetheart, why don\u2019t you go get something to drink while your parents and I have a conversation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I heard myself say. \u201cWhatever this is, it involves me. I\u2019m not going anywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My grandmother looked at me for a moment, then nodded once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re right. You deserve to know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She turned back to my parents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI want a full accounting. Every transaction, every investment decision, every dollar spent. Forty-eight hours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother\u2019s eyes filled with tears. \u201cMother, please. You\u2019re making a scene.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI haven\u2019t even begun to make a scene. But if you prefer, we can continue this in front of all your friends and neighbors, or you can agree to provide the documentation I\u2019m requesting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe did what we thought was best for Maggie,\u201d my father said, and I noticed he put his hand on my mother\u2019s shoulder rather than looking at me. \u201cWe were trying to protect her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cProtect her from what?\u201d my grandmother\u2019s contempt was quiet and devastating. \u201cFinancial security? The ability to graduate without debt? Please. Enlighten me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at my parents \u2014 really looked, the way you look at people when the frame around them has suddenly changed \u2014 and saw things I had somehow not noticed before. My mother\u2019s designer handbag that she\u2019d claimed to buy on sale. My father\u2019s car, the one he said came through some special company program. The kitchen renovation two years ago, supposedly financed by a home equity loan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow much is left?\u201d I asked. My voice barely rose above a whisper. \u201cOf the three million. How much is still there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Neither of them answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnswer your granddaughter,\u201d Vivien said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll need to go through everything carefully,\u201d my father said. \u201cThere were a lot of complex transactions. We invested in several business opportunities. Some paid off, some didn\u2019t. We paid for your education, Maggie. Your rent during college. Your car insurance. All of those things came from somewhere.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI have student loans,\u201d I said. My mind was doing math I didn\u2019t want to do. \u201cFifty thousand dollars in debt I\u2019m going to be paying off for a decade. And you just said you paid for my education from the trust fund.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cPartially,\u201d my mother said quickly. \u201cCollege is expensive. Even with the trust fund, we had to make choices.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI paid for college,\u201d my grandmother said, her voice now very quiet. \u201cThe trust fund was for after. To give her a foundation. And you dare to stand here and tell me you spent it on things you should have paid for yourselves?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
People were definitely watching now. I could feel it. I wanted to disappear and also desperately needed to stay and get every answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI want to see the paperwork too,\u201d I said. \u201cEverything. Every bank statement, every investment record, every check you wrote. If that money was mine, I have a right to know what happened to it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother looked like she might be physically ill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMaggie, you don\u2019t understand how complicated these things are. We did our best. We made some mistakes. But we were trying to secure a better future for all of us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFor all of us,\u201d I repeated. \u201cYou mean for yourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Source: Unsplash
The Investigation That Revealed the Full Scale of What Had Been Done
That evening, I drove to my grandmother\u2019s house in the hills above the city, still in my graduation dress, the apartment I\u2019d shared for two years echoing and empty behind me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She spread financial documents across her dining room table like a general planning a campaign. Thai food cooled at the far end, forgotten. I poured wine and started reading.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The trust fund had been established the day I was born, funded initially with two million dollars from the sale of one of Vivien\u2019s commercial properties. By careful investment, it had grown to $3.2 million by my twenty-first birthday. Then my parents became the only signatories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Six months later, the balance had dropped to $2.8 million.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The withdrawals were vague in their notations \u2014 \u201cinvestment opportunities,\u201d \u201cbusiness ventures,\u201d \u201cconsulting fees\u201d \u2014 nothing specific, nothing easily traced. But the pattern was unmistakable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYour father,\u201d my grandmother said, pointing to a cluster of transactions, \u201cinvested four hundred thousand dollars in a pharmaceutical startup about three years ago. One of his clients turned business partner. The company went under last year. Complete loss.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She kept going. Another three hundred thousand in a real estate flip my mother had organized with friends \u2014 bought at auction, renovated, sold at a loss. A restaurant investment. Cryptocurrency speculation. A medical device company that turned out to be outright fraud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow much is left?\u201d I asked, though something in her expression had already told me the answer was going to be bad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBased on what we can determine so far \u2014 approximately two hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Possibly less.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Out of three million.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sat very still and did the arithmetic of my life. The student loans I was repaying on money that had supposedly been used for my tuition. The double shifts I\u2019d worked at a campus coffee shop to make rent while my parents took a trip to Europe they called a second honeymoon. The frugality I had practiced so carefully, the opportunities I had passed on, the internships I couldn\u2019t afford to take.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They had watched me struggle. They had seen my anxiety. They had told me to be careful with money.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All of it while they had access to millions of dollars in my name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI want to file suit tomorrow,\u201d I said. \u201cI want to freeze whatever assets they have left.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAlready in motion,\u201d my grandmother said. \u201cMy attorney is drafting the paperwork tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
How My Mother\u2019s Own Text Messages Became the Most Damaging Evidence of All
The lawsuit landed on my parents three days after graduation. An emergency injunction froze their assets and demanded full financial disclosure. The local newspaper ran a brief story because my grandmother was well known in the community and the dollar amount was impossible to ignore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stayed at her house. We developed a routine \u2014 mornings with Patricia, her attorney, a sharp woman in power suits who took no prisoners. Afternoons for job interviews and apartment hunting. Evenings for wine and increasingly detailed strategy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My parents hired their own attorney and sent letters claiming I was being manipulated by my grandmother, that they had always acted in my best interest, that the trust fund had been used entirely for legitimate purposes. Patricia destroyed those claims methodically, subpoenaing bank records and credit card statements and property documents, tracing every dollar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then my mother\u2019s sister, Aunt Carol, reached out through a Facebook message saying she had something I needed to see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We met at a caf\u00e9 on a Tuesday afternoon. Carol ordered iced tea and fidgeted with the straw before getting to it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYour mother has been telling me about the money for years,\u201d she said. \u201cShe told me you knew about it. That it was a family decision. I believed her because why would she lie?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She pulled out her phone and scrolled through text messages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHere. Two years ago. She\u2019s talking about a trip to France.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I read the message on Carol\u2019s screen. My mother\u2019s words, in her own handwriting: We\u2019re using some of Maggie\u2019s money for this, but she doesn\u2019t mind. She knows we\u2019re going to pay it back with interest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd here,\u201d Carol said, scrolling further. \u201cFrom last year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Another message from my mother, sent while I was stressing about student loan payments in my apartment: I don\u2019t understand why Maggie is being so dramatic. She has the trust fund. She can pay those loans off whenever she wants.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I read it twice. My mother had known. She had watched me struggle and stress and sacrifice, had heard me worry out loud about money, and had said nothing. Had let me continue suffering while sitting on millions of dollars in my name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy are you showing me this?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBecause she called me after the lawsuit and asked me to testify that you\u2019d always known about the trust fund. That you\u2019d approved their investment decisions. She wanted me to lie for her in court.\u201d Carol\u2019s expression was flat and tired. \u201cWhen I refused, she said things that made me realize she\u2019s been lying to me for years too. I\u2019m not covering for her anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWill you testify about these messages?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAlready talked to your grandmother\u2019s attorney. She\u2019s getting everything I have.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Patricia was thrilled. The texts established that my parents had intentionally concealed the trust fund from me. The fraud charges in the amended complaint were now supported by my mother\u2019s own words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The defense collapsed. Their attorney began negotiating a settlement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What I Agreed To \u2014 and the Conditions I Required Before I Would Sign
My grandmother wanted maximum penalties. Criminal prosecution, the full force of whatever the law would allow. I understood the impulse. I had felt it myself, that white-hot desire for complete destruction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I was also a newly minted business administration graduate who understood leverage and strategy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe take the settlement,\u201d I told Patricia. \u201cBut with conditions. They repay what remains immediately. Monthly payments on the rest for ten years, secured by a lien on their house. And no contact with me unless I initiate it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s lenient,\u201d my grandmother said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt gets me resources to rebuild my life. And it leaves them alive to think about what they did \u2014 every single month, when they make that payment, they\u2019ll be reminded of what it cost them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The settlement was signed. The remaining $230,000 transferred to an account in my name only. Monthly payments of three thousand dollars for the next ten years, a lien on their house as security.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I went to work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I documented everything my forensic accountant had found and started a blog under my own name, writing about what had happened in careful, factual detail \u2014 the discovery at the graduation ceremony, the paper trail, the legal proceedings. I named my experience without hiding behind anonymity. The blog went viral within a week. Media outlets picked up the story. I did interviews, always calm, always precise, always focused on the specific mechanics of what had been done rather than the emotional devastation of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I became a resource for other young adults who had experienced financial betrayal within their families. Which turned out to be more people than most would expect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father lost his job three months after the lawsuit became public. No pharmaceutical company wanted a sales representative whose professional judgment had produced headlines like that. He bounced between positions, never staying anywhere long, his reputation following him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother fared no better socially. The country club membership they had clung to was quietly not renewed. Friends stopped calling. She took a job as a receptionist at a medical office, earning close to minimum wage for the first time in her adult life. They sold the house, unable to keep the mortgage alongside the monthly restitution payments. They moved into a small apartment in a less expensive neighborhood, driving a used car bought with cash.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Everything they had performed for the world \u2014 the appearances, the status, the carefully curated image of comfortable success \u2014 had been built on money that belonged to me. When I stopped pretending not to know that, it all came apart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Final Move \u2014 and Why Becoming My Mother\u2019s Landlord Was the Most Satisfying Part of All
Three years after graduation, my career had accelerated beyond what I had expected. The boutique hotel in Austin that hired me as assistant front office manager promoted me to front office manager within a year, then to assistant general manager. I started consulting on the side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
More importantly, my financial education platform had grown from a blog into a business \u2014 courses, workshops, speaking engagements at universities. I wrote a book about financial abuse within families that became a bestseller. I donated the proceeds to organizations that helped young adults navigate similar situations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My grandmother was eighty-one and beginning to transition her real estate holdings. She had been teaching me for years, and I had been learning the way I learned everything \u2014 by paying close attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When she mentioned that a small commercial building she owned in the neighborhood where my parents now lived had lease renewals coming up, I made her a proposal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLet me buy the building from you,\u201d I said. \u201cFair market value. Then let me manage the renovation and the lease negotiations.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She studied me with those sharp blue eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou want to be your mother\u2019s landlord.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIndirectly. The medical practice that\u2019s expanding is my mother\u2019s employer. If they renovate and grow, they\u2019ll need more staff. They might promote from within if they have someone reliable.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re going to give her a better job?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m going to create a circumstance where she can earn a better job \u2014 if she can hold herself together long enough to deserve it. And if she can\u2019t, she\u2019ll spend her working life watching other people get promoted while she stagnates. Either way, the irony is complete.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My grandmother laughed \u2014 a sound of genuine, delighted approval.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou are absolutely ruthless. I love it. Let\u2019s draw up the paperwork.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I bought the building for $1.3 million through an LLC. The purchase had no obvious connection to me. The medical practice expanded, renovated, and when they needed a new office manager, they promoted from within. My mother, who had quietly stopped drinking, started therapy, and not called in sick once in four months, was their candidate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The practice manager called me, as landlord, to discuss the staffing decision as a routine courtesy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe\u2019s really impressed us lately,\u201d she said. \u201cI know she had some personal struggles in the past, but she seems genuinely committed to doing better. I\u2019d like to offer her the promotion.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf you think she\u2019s the right person for the job,\u201d I said, keeping my voice completely neutral, \u201cthen you should trust your own judgment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother got the promotion, along with a salary increase that nearly doubled what she\u2019d been making. She threw herself into the work with an intensity that surprised people who had known her before. She arrived early and stayed late, implemented new systems, improved patient satisfaction scores. Aunt Carol reported all of it with something that sounded like cautious hope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What Carol didn\u2019t know \u2014 what my mother had no way of knowing \u2014 was that every rent check the medical practice paid now flowed into an account that belonged to me. My mother was working to pay rent to a landlord who was the daughter she had betrayed. Every hour she worked, every patient she checked in, every insurance claim she processed \u2014 enriching me with the labor she had never had to perform before I forced her to start over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The final payment arrived on a Tuesday morning in October, ten years after the settlement. Three thousand dollars, just like the previous one hundred and nineteen. I received the notification while reviewing plans for a downtown mixed-use development. I noted it and went back to work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My parents were a closed chapter in a story that had moved far beyond them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Source: Unsplash
What I Built From the Foundation They Tried to Steal \u2014 and Why I Have No Regrets
Years after the graduation ceremony where my grandmother\u2019s one innocent question split my life into before and after, I sat in a study that had once been Vivien\u2019s and looked at a portfolio I had built from equal parts recovered trust fund money, ten years of careful investment, and my own work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My grandmother had passed away two years earlier at eighty-six, peacefully and on her own terms. She left me everything \u2014 her properties, her investments, the business she had built over a lifetime. I inherited not just assets but a way of seeing the world: clearly, without sentimentality, with a willingness to act when action was required.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At my parents\u2019 final bankruptcy hearing \u2014 my father had tried to discharge the repayment debt, and a federal judge had declined the petition, citing the fraud finding in the original settlement \u2014 I had sat in a federal courtroom and watched my father be unable to look at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMr. Brennan,\u201d the judge had said, her voice precisely calibrated to judicial neutrality, \u201cwhy should this court discharge a debt that arose from funds you misappropriated from your own daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt was mismanagement,\u201d he said. \u201cNot theft. I was trying to grow the money.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou invested four hundred thousand dollars in a company you had reason to believe was failing, in exchange for a promised executive position. You allowed your daughter to carry student loan debt while you had access to millions held in trust for her benefit. You never disclosed the trust fund to her even when she expressed financial anxiety in your presence. Does that sound like mismanagement to you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He had no answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She denied the petition. The debt survived bankruptcy. The payments continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometime after that, I received an email from my mother through a generic business inquiry address she must have spent time tracking down. It was long and surprisingly honest \u2014 about growing up poor, about marrying my father believing he would provide stability, about how easy it had been to justify taking money that was just sitting there when they had so many wants and needs. She acknowledged what she had done without hedging it into justification. She said she didn\u2019t expect forgiveness and didn\u2019t deserve it, but wanted me to know she understood what she had stolen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the end she mentioned her job, how much it meant to her, how hard she was working to build something honest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She had no idea I was her landlord. She never found out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I saved the email in a folder with all the other documentation of those years. I did not respond.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My parents would go to their graves knowing they had destroyed their own lives for nothing, and that their daughter had risen from the wreckage of their choices to build exactly the kind of life that trust fund was supposed to enable \u2014 only she had done it herself, with her own work and her grandmother\u2019s wisdom, without their help and in spite of their betrayal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was worth considerably more than three million dollars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My grandmother told me once, over wine and spreadsheets, that real revenge wasn\u2019t hot. It was cold. It was calculated. It was permanent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was right about that the way she was right about most things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I graduated summa cum laude from a university with a degree in business administration. I graduated again, years later, from a harder school \u2014 the one where you learn what people are capable of, including the people who were supposed to protect you. I got honors in both programs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The difference was that the second degree, I paid for myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We\u2019d love to hear your thoughts on Maggie\u2019s story \u2014 drop a comment on the Facebook video and join the conversation. If this story moved you, please share it with your friends and family. You never know who in your life needs to hear today that betrayal can become a foundation \u2014 if you\u2019re willing to do the work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Please let us know your thoughts and SHARE this story with your Friends and Family!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The June sun was merciless the afternoon my life changed. I was sitting in a folding chair on the university quad, diploma cover sweating in my hands, wearing a polyester … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":6622,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6621","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family-story","category-lastest-story"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6621","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6621"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6621\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6623,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6621\/revisions\/6623"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/6622"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6621"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6621"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6621"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}