At 62, I trusted my instincts more than ever—and they warned me about Wendy Richardson the moment I met her.
My son Matthew brought her into our lives after losing his wife to cancer, while I had been raising his grieving 6-year-old son, Alex, at home. I had hoped he would find someone who could heal our broken family.
But from the very first meeting, something about Wendy felt wrong. I couldn’t ignore the warning signs.
