I learned because I had no other choice.
By the time my divorce was finalized, I understood that the life I had spent more than twenty years building rested on financial decisions I had barely understood.
I had trusted my husband, Daniel, to handle the money.
The accounts.
The mortgage.
The paperwork.
I handled Lily, our daughter, the house, the schedules, school activities, appointments, meals, and all the invisible pieces that kept a family functioning.
For twenty-one years, that division of responsibility had seemed reasonable.
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