Then I walked up.

“MOMMY!” Emma shrieked, leaping into my arms.

Nathan stood, shocked. “Morgan? You found your passport?”

Donna’s wine glass trembled. “But… how did you—?”

I smiled.

“It was exactly where you left it, Donna. In the Ziplock. Under the magazines. In the guest room.”

Silence.

Nathan turned to his mother, his face a mix of disbelief and betrayal. “Mom?”

Donna sputtered. “That’s ridiculous! I don’t know what she’s talking about!”

I pulled out my phone and hit play.

Alexa’s voice announced the temperature adjustment, then—crystal clear—Donna’s words followed:

“She doesn’t deserve this vacation. If she can’t keep track of her passport, maybe she shouldn’t come. Natie will finally relax without her nagging.”

Donna went pale.

She stood up and walked away without another word.

That night, Nathan and I sat on the balcony. “I never thought Mom would do something like that,” he admitted.

“You didn’t want to see it,” I replied. “But this is the line. You can’t let her control our lives anymore.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I’m so sorry.”

When we got home, Donna tried to weasel her way back in—crying, begging, then raging.

“I was just protecting my son!” she screamed through the screen door.

“You’re not welcome in our home anymore,” I said before shutting the door in her face.

A few weeks later, I booked a solo spa weekend. All-inclusive. No Donna. No drama.

And the best part?

I paid for it with the refund from the flight she stole from me.