{"id":242,"date":"2026-09-22T16:14:06","date_gmt":"2026-09-22T16:14:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/?p=242"},"modified":"2026-09-22T16:14:06","modified_gmt":"2026-09-22T16:14:06","slug":"i-need-the-money-tomorrow-my-daughter-ordered-me-handing-me-her-husbands-debt-of-500000-and-no-delays-her-husband-added-i-smiled-and-said","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/?p=242","title":{"rendered":"\u201cI need the money tomorrow!\u201d my daughter ordered me, handing me her husband\u2019s debt of $500,000; \u201cAnd no delays!\u201d her husband added; I smiled and said, \u201cOkay\u201d; four hours later"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n
\n

The doorbell rang three times in less than five seconds.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Not polite rings.<\/p>\n

Sharp, impatient ones.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

I put down my wine and closed the quarterly report on my desk. Before I even stood up, I knew exactly who was outside.<\/p>\n

Through the study window, I could see a white Tesla glowing beneath the security lights.<\/p>\n

My daughter, Clare, only rang my doorbell like that when she wanted money.<\/p>\n

I crossed the marble foyer slowly, passing the framed photographs that had lined those walls for years.<\/p>\n

Clare at five, grinning with two missing front teeth.<\/p>\n

Clare at eighteen in her graduation gown.<\/p>\n

Clare at twenty-eight on her wedding day, glowing in white.<\/p>\n

Once, those photographs made me proud.<\/p>\n

That night, they felt like evidence from another life.<\/p>\n

When I opened the door, Clare gave me the polished smile she had perfected over the years.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her husband, Derek, stood behind her staring at his phone.<\/p>\n

Neither of them looked happy to see me.<\/p>\n

Clare wrapped her arms around me anyway.<\/p>\n

The hug lasted slightly too long.<\/p>\n

She always became unusually affectionate right before asking me for something.<\/p>\n

Derek walked past me without waiting to be invited and headed straight for my favorite armchair.<\/p>\n

I followed them into the living room.<\/p>\n

By the time I arrived, Derek had already spread several documents across my coffee table as though he were preparing for a corporate negotiation.<\/p>\n

Clare sat on the couch and began rubbing the pearl necklace I had given her for her thirtieth birthday.<\/p>\n

Another tell.<\/p>\n

She touched those pearls whenever she was nervous.<\/p>\n

Or whenever she wanted money.<\/p>\n

Derek finally looked up.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s not waste time, Diane.\u201d<\/p>\n

Diane.<\/p>\n

Not Mom.<\/p>\n

Not Mrs. Whitfield.<\/p>\n

Just Diane, as though I were some investor he was trying to close.<\/p>\n

Clare forced another smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe wouldn\u2019t have come this late unless it was serious. You always say family comes first.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat across from them.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened with the Cedar Falls property?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her expression tightened.<\/p>\n

Derek answered.<\/p>\n

\u201cMarket correction. Temporary loss.\u201d<\/p>\n

I kept my voice calm.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow temporary?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat isn\u2019t why we\u2019re here.\u201d<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Then he leaned forward.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need five hundred thousand dollars deposited into our account by noon tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment, I thought I had misheard him.<\/p>\n

\u201cFive hundred thousand?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

He said it as casually as if he were asking me to pick up groceries.<\/p>\n

Half a million dollars.<\/p>\n

By tomorrow.<\/p>\n

I stared at my daughter.<\/p>\n

Memories flooded back faster than I could stop them.<\/p>\n

Teaching Clare how to ride her bicycle.<\/p>\n

Paying her college tuition.<\/p>\n

Walking beside her on her wedding day.<\/p>\n

Helping with the down payment on her home.<\/p>\n

Funding Derek\u2019s first business.<\/p>\n

Then his second.<\/p>\n

Then his third.<\/p>\n

Over the years, I had quietly spent more than a million dollars helping them.<\/p>\n

Apparently, it still wasn\u2019t enough.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat exactly is the money for?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Derek rose and walked toward my bar.<\/p>\n

Without asking permission, he poured himself a generous glass of my scotch.<\/p>\n

\u201cThese aren\u2019t normal creditors,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt means they\u2019re serious people.\u201d<\/p>\n

He swirled the drink.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I\u2019m sure none of us wants anything unpleasant reaching your company or damaging your reputation.\u201d<\/p>\n

There it was.<\/p>\n

Not quite a threat.<\/p>\n

But close enough.<\/p>\n

Stress immediately began pulsing behind my left eye.<\/p>\n

Then Clare said something that made every emotion inside me suddenly go cold.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf Dad were alive, he\u2019d be ashamed of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at her.<\/p>\n

Her father had been gone for eleven years.<\/p>\n

Not once had Clare used his memory against me.<\/p>\n

Not until Derek entered her life.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour father,\u201d I said quietly, \u201cwould have told both of you to get jobs.\u201d<\/p>\n

Derek laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have a job. I\u2019m an entrepreneur.\u201d<\/p>\n

Three failed companies in five years.<\/p>\n

I had helped finance every one of them.<\/p>\n

Apparently, losing other people\u2019s money had become a career.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what is the five hundred thousand actually for?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReal estate.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou just told me your real-estate investment collapsed.\u201d<\/p>\n

He hesitated.<\/p>\n

Only for a second.<\/p>\n

Then changed direction.<\/p>\n

\u201cCrypto. There\u2019s an opportunity. Practically guaranteed.\u201d<\/p>\n

I almost laughed.<\/p>\n

Eight months earlier, that exact kind of \u201cguaranteed opportunity\u201d had cost them two hundred thousand dollars.<\/p>\n

I started listing everything I had already paid for.<\/p>\n

Their wedding.<\/p>\n

The house.<\/p>\n

The businesses.<\/p>\n

The emergency loans.<\/p>\n

The tuition.<\/p>\n

The vacations disguised as business expenses.<\/p>\n

Eventually Derek stood over me, clearly hoping his height would make me back down.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

\u201cThis is about your grandchildren\u2019s future.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked straight at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy grandchildren whose private-school tuition I already pay directly?\u201d<\/p>\n

He had no answer.<\/p>\n

Then I looked at Clare.<\/p>\n

For a second, I struggled to find the little girl in the woman sitting across from me.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

\u201cFine,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Both of them froze.<\/p>\n

Clare\u2019s eyes widened.<\/p>\n

\u201cFine?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll have your answer tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her shoulders relaxed immediately.<\/p>\n

She thought I had surrendered.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stepped toward me for another hug.<\/p>\n

I moved away.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

Derek gathered his papers.<\/p>\n

A few minutes later, their Tesla disappeared beyond my gates.<\/p>\n

I waited until the taillights were gone.<\/p>\n

Then I made my first phone call.<\/p>\n

My attorney, Grace, answered on the second ring.<\/p>\n

We had been friends for twenty years.<\/p>\n

She knew I never called after nine at night unless something serious had happened.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey finally crossed the line, didn\u2019t they?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cFive hundred thousand dollars by noon tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

Grace exhaled.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe transfer paperwork has already been filed.\u201d<\/p>\n

I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n

Five years earlier, after another financial disaster involving Derek, Grace had convinced me to begin protecting myself.<\/p>\n

At the time, I felt guilty.<\/p>\n

Now I was grateful.<\/p>\n

The house Clare and Derek lived in had been purchased largely with my money.<\/p>\n

They believed it belonged to them.<\/p>\n

What they didn\u2019t know was that Clare\u2019s name had never actually been placed on the deed.<\/p>\n

I had retained ownership.<\/p>\n

And the previous afternoon, before either of them appeared at my door, Grace had completed the legal transfer of that property into a protected entity they couldn\u2019t touch.<\/p>\n

They had arrived demanding half a million dollars without realizing they had already lost access to the largest asset they thought they controlled.<\/p>\n

I opened my laptop.<\/p>\n

An email had been sitting in my inbox for three weeks.<\/p>\n

A reservation for a small house near the Portuguese coast.<\/p>\n

Originally, it had been part of a retirement dream I kept postponing.<\/p>\n

That night, it became an escape plan.<\/p>\n

I changed my flight.<\/p>\n

6:45 the following morning.<\/p>\n

First class.<\/p>\n

One passenger.<\/p>\n

Then I opened the safe in my study.<\/p>\n

Inside were twenty years of financial records.<\/p>\n

Every check.<\/p>\n

Every transfer.<\/p>\n

Every loan.<\/p>\n

Every promise that the next request would be the last.<\/p>\n

There was even a signed document from Derek two years earlier promising he would never ask me for money again.<\/p>\n

I had printed screenshots from Clare\u2019s social media accounts too.<\/p>\n

Luxury restaurants.<\/p>\n

Champagne.<\/p>\n

Designer purchases.<\/p>\n

All posted during periods when she had been telling me she couldn\u2019t afford groceries.<\/p>\n

Then came the photographs Grace\u2019s investigator had collected.<\/p>\n

Derek inside casinos.<\/p>\n

Dates and timestamps included.<\/p>\n

And finally, the security footage.<\/p>\n

Years earlier, after a burglary, I had installed cameras throughout the property.<\/p>\n

Those cameras had recorded every word Clare and Derek said that night.<\/p>\n

I packed two suitcases.<\/p>\n

Then I sent my business partner a two-line email.<\/p>\n

\u201cFamily emergency. You\u2019re running things for now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before leaving the room, I stopped in front of our family portrait.<\/p>\n

It had been taken five years earlier.<\/p>\n

Clare looked genuinely happy in it.<\/p>\n

Maybe she had been.<\/p>\n

Maybe I had simply wanted to believe she was.<\/p>\n

I removed the frame from the wall, turned it around, and hung it back up.<\/p>\n

The blank backside somehow felt more truthful.<\/p>\n

Then I called Rosalind, my late husband\u2019s sister.<\/p>\n

She had always been the one other person Clare respected enough to occasionally listen to.<\/p>\n

Rosalind answered immediately.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re finally doing it?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI should have done it years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s still your daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the dark room around me.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I don\u2019t recognize the woman she has become.\u201d<\/p>\n

Later that night, I stood in the kitchen looking at drawings my grandchildren had taped to the refrigerator.<\/p>\n

One showed two stick figures beside a blue lake.<\/p>\n

GRANDMA AND ME FISHING.<\/p>\n

I folded that one carefully and slipped it into my wallet.<\/p>\n

My grandchildren had done nothing wrong.<\/p>\n

Their parents\u2019 choices were not theirs.<\/p>\n

Before going upstairs, I placed a simple cardboard box on the table beside my front door.<\/p>\n

Inside were copies of the property documents.<\/p>\n

The complete history of the money I had given them.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Nearly one million dollars across eight years.<\/p>\n

Legal notices prepared by Grace.<\/p>\n

Photographs of Derek at the casino.<\/p>\n

And a flash drive containing several recordings.<\/p>\n

On top, I placed a note.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou wanted something tomorrow.<\/p>\n

This is what you\u2019re getting.\u201d<\/p>\n

My alarm rang at 4:30 a.m.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t hit snooze.<\/p>\n

By six, I was sitting in Grace\u2019s office signing a limited power of attorney while we ate stale donuts from the bakery downstairs.<\/p>\n

We had been doing important paperwork over coffee and donuts since 1999.<\/p>\n

Grace slid the final folder toward me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re certain?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m certain.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then she smiled faintly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know the funniest part?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe property transfer was finalized yesterday afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat time?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout three hours before Clare showed up at your house.\u201d<\/p>\n

I almost smiled.<\/p>\n

While my daughter had been driving across town to pressure me into giving her another half-million dollars, the asset she believed she owned was already beyond her reach.<\/p>\n

By seven, I was in the air.<\/p>\n

Clouds swallowed the city beneath me.<\/p>\n

And for the first time in years, my phone was completely silent.<\/p>\n

I learned what happened afterward through Grace, my neighbors, bank notifications, and eventually the security footage.<\/p>\n

At exactly noon, Clare tried to buy coffee.<\/p>\n

Her card was declined.<\/p>\n

It was the final purchase she ever attempted on an account connected to me.<\/p>\n

At 12:15, my neighbor called Grace.<\/p>\n

Clare and Derek were standing on my porch opening the box.<\/p>\n

The camera captured everything.<\/p>\n

First came confusion.<\/p>\n

Then disbelief.<\/p>\n

Then panic.<\/p>\n

Clare pulled out the property documents.<\/p>\n

Next came the spreadsheet showing exactly how much money I had given them over the years.<\/p>\n

Then the casino photographs.<\/p>\n

And finally, the flash drive.<\/p>\n

One recording captured Clare\u2019s own voice during a conversation with Derek weeks earlier.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe always gives in. Just take whatever she offers. She\u2019s too weak to say no.\u201d<\/p>\n

When that recording played, Clare\u2019s face collapsed.<\/p>\n

Derek responded differently.<\/p>\n

He threw his briefcase against my front door so hard that it damaged the handle.<\/p>\n

Clare simply sat down on the steps.<\/p>\n

And cried.<\/p>\n

Not the controlled tears I had seen before.<\/p>\n

Not the tears designed to make me open my checkbook.<\/p>\n

These were different.<\/p>\n

They belonged to someone finally realizing that the person she had taken for granted was no longer participating.<\/p>\n

Within days, everything began falling apart.<\/p>\n

Grace uncovered the truth behind Derek\u2019s emergency.<\/p>\n

Gambling debts.<\/p>\n

Nearly five hundred thousand dollars.<\/p>\n

The money had never been for property.<\/p>\n

Or cryptocurrency.<\/p>\n

Or the grandchildren.<\/p>\n

Derek owed people who were not interested in hearing excuses.<\/p>\n

Within a week, he disappeared.<\/p>\n

Months later, we heard he had been working under another name somewhere across the border.<\/p>\n

Clare filed for divorce without him present.<\/p>\n

Then came her online searches.<\/p>\n

Grace showed them to me later.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan parent take back gifted house?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan financial gifts be recovered?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEmergency bankruptcy attorney.\u201d<\/strong><\/h1>\n

She spoke with four lawyers.<\/p>\n

All four gave her essentially the same answer.<\/p>\n

There was nothing she could reclaim from me.<\/p>\n

By the middle of May, she lost the condo she had moved into.<\/p>\n

Eventually she rented a tiny studio above a diner.<\/p>\n

Roughly four hundred square feet.<\/p>\n

She worked retail during the day.<\/p>\n

At night, she picked up shifts at the diner.<\/p>\n

I received updates from Grace but stopped asking for them as often.<\/p>\n

I had expected revenge to feel satisfying.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Mostly, I felt exhausted.<\/p>\n

Then, slowly, something else appeared.<\/p>\n

Peace.<\/p>\n

Rosalind and I settled into a simple routine by the coast.<\/p>\n

Morning walks.<\/p>\n

Bad watercolor paintings.<\/p>\n

Cheap grilled fish.<\/p>\n

No country clubs.<\/p>\n

No tense phone calls.<\/p>\n

No emergency transfers.<\/p>\n

No one asking me for money before saying hello.<\/p>\n

Within two months, my blood pressure dropped dramatically.<\/p>\n

Eventually, seeing Clare\u2019s name on my phone stopped making my chest tighten.<\/p>\n

Then one June afternoon, Grace forwarded me a letter.<\/p>\n

Three handwritten pages.<\/p>\n

I recognized Clare\u2019s handwriting immediately.<\/p>\n

I hadn\u2019t seen it since college.<\/p>\n

She told me about a night at the diner.<\/p>\n

A group of women from her old sorority had walked in.<\/p>\n

Years earlier, Clare would have been humiliated to let them see her wearing an apron and taking orders.<\/p>\n

One recognized her.<\/p>\n

Clare considered hiding in the kitchen.<\/p>\n

But she didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

She walked to their table.<\/p>\n

She took their orders.<\/p>\n

She refilled their drinks.<\/p>\n

And when they left, she cleared their plates just like every other customer.<\/p>\n

Then she wrote:<\/p>\n

\u201cI hated you when you left.<\/p>\n

I hated you more than I thought I could hate anyone.<\/p>\n

But I understand now.<\/p>\n

You didn\u2019t destroy my life.<\/p>\n

You stopped protecting me from it.<\/p>\n

Derek and I kept encouraging the worst parts of each other. We convinced ourselves we deserved everything because someone had always been there to pay for it.<\/p>\n

When the money disappeared, there was nothing underneath us.<\/p>\n

I had to figure out who I was without it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I read that paragraph several times.<\/p>\n

Then I wrote her one letter.<\/p>\n

Only one.<\/p>\n

I told her about a little girl I had seen running along the beach in Portugal.<\/p>\n

She reminded me of Clare at seven.<\/p>\n

Fearless.<\/p>\n

Curious.<\/p>\n

Grateful for everything.<\/p>\n

I told her I missed that version of my daughter.<\/p>\n

But I also admitted something I had avoided admitting for years.<\/p>\n

Derek was not entirely responsible for who Clare became.<\/p>\n

Neither was Clare.<\/p>\n

I had played a role too.<\/p>\n

Every time consequences approached, I wrote a check.<\/p>\n

Every time she struggled, I removed the struggle.<\/p>\n

I had mistaken rescuing her for loving her.<\/p>\n

Then I told her something she had never known.<\/p>\n

Years earlier, I had created a trust in her name.<\/p>\n

It would become available when she turned thirty-five.<\/p>\n

I had no intention of using it to rescue her.<\/p>\n

By then, she would have to decide what kind of woman she wanted to become.<\/p>\n

The money would merely reveal whether she had learned anything.<\/p>\n

I ended the letter with something I had spent months trying to understand.<\/p>\n

\u201cI love you.<\/p>\n

But love without respect eventually becomes pity.<\/p>\n

Someday, I hope we can give each other something better than that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clare didn\u2019t suddenly transform overnight.<\/p>\n

She kept working.<\/p>\n

She paid her own bills.<\/p>\n

She learned to budget.<\/p>\n

And, most importantly, she stopped asking me to solve her problems.<\/p>\n

About a year later, she began volunteering at community centers, teaching financial literacy to young adults.<\/p>\n

The irony wasn\u2019t lost on either of us.<\/p>\n

She was teaching people exactly the lessons she had learned in the hardest possible way.<\/p>\n

Two years later, local school districts began asking her to help develop financial education programs.<\/p>\n

That August, I flew home without telling her.<\/p>\n

I went to the department store where Grace said she still worked part-time.<\/p>\n

I found Clare kneeling beside an elderly customer, patiently helping the woman try on a pair of shoes.<\/p>\n

The old Clare would have considered that kind of work beneath her.<\/p>\n

This Clare smiled.<\/p>\n

She listened.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

She took her time.<\/p>\n

Then she looked up.<\/p>\n

And saw me.<\/p>\n

For several seconds, neither of us moved.<\/p>\n

Finally, she stood.<\/p>\n

Her eyes dropped toward the shopping bag in my hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re shopping in a department store?\u201d<\/p>\n

I raised an eyebrow.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou haven\u2019t bought your own clothes in years,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThings change.\u201d<\/p>\n

A small smile appeared on her face.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey do.\u201d<\/p>\n

That night, we ate dinner in her tiny studio apartment.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

The plates didn\u2019t match.<\/p>\n

The table wobbled.<\/p>\n

There was no champagne.<\/p>\n

No private chef.<\/p>\n

No expensive view.<\/p>\n

On one wall hung the same graduation photograph I had once walked past in my own foyer.<\/p>\n

It was slightly crooked.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t straighten it.<\/p>\n

It was the best dinner I had eaten in years.<\/p>\n

I hadn\u2019t returned to rescue my daughter.<\/p>\n

I hadn\u2019t come back to restore her old life.<\/p>\n

I simply wanted to meet the woman she had become when nobody else was paying the bill.<\/p>\n

And for the first time in a very long time, I liked the person sitting across from me.<\/p>\n

I had spent most of my adult life building wealth.<\/p>\n

Companies.<\/p>\n

Property.<\/p>\n

Investments.<\/p>\n

Accounts filled with numbers large enough to impress strangers.<\/p>\n

None of it compared to what sat between us at that tiny kitchen table.<\/p>\n

Respect.<\/p>\n

Not demanded.<\/p>\n

Not purchased.<\/p>\n

Earned.<\/p>\n

And I finally understood something I wish I had learned much earlier.<\/p>\n

Sometimes loving someone means helping them.<\/p>\n

But sometimes the most loving thing you can do is stop saving them long enough for them to learn how to save themselves.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/article>\n
<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The doorbell rang three times in less than five seconds. Not polite rings. Sharp, impatient ones. I put down my wine and closed the quarterly report on my desk. Before … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":243,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-242","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-latest-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/242","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=242"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/242\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":244,"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/242\/revisions\/244"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/243"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=242"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=242"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/justanotherstory.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=242"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}