{"id":3532,"date":"2026-07-03T14:50:58","date_gmt":"2026-07-03T14:50:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/?p=3532"},"modified":"2026-07-03T14:50:58","modified_gmt":"2026-07-03T14:50:58","slug":"part-2-my-stepson-smashed-my-8-year-old-sons-handmade-airplane-looked-me-in-the-eye-and-said-i-was-not-his-real-mom-so-that-night-i-stopped-being-the-bank-account-chauffeur-and","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/?p=3532","title":{"rendered":"PART 2: My stepson smashed my 8-year-old son\u2019s handmade airplane, looked me in the eye, and said I was not his real mom\u2014so that night, I stopped being the bank account, chauffeur, and invisible safety net his father had let him disrespect, canceled every privilege tied to my name, changed the locks, packed his things, and uncovered who had been teaching him to treat me like trash all along."},"content":{"rendered":"
PART 3: The Driveway Standoff<\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I walked to the front door and opened it.<\/span><\/div>\n
Daniel was standing on the porch, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. Behind him, Jason and Alyssa were standing in the driveway next to their neatly stacked boxes. Jason had his arms crossed, wearing a smirk that screamed he thought this was all a bluff. Alyssa was already recording a video on her phone, ready to play the victim for her followers.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cRachel, open the damn door,\u201d Daniel hissed, stepping forward.<\/span><\/div>\n
I didn\u2019t move. I just stood in the doorway, blocking his path into the house I paid the mortgage on.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cThe door is open, Daniel,\u201d I said, my voice eerily calm. \u201cBut you aren\u2019t coming in.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cAre you out of your mind?\u201d he shouted, the veins in his neck bulging. \u201cYou changed the locks? On my own house? Over a broken toy?\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cOver a broken boundary,\u201d I corrected him. \u201cAnd a son who was humiliated in his own home. But since you\u2019re here, you can help them load their things into your car.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
Jason let out a loud, mocking laugh. \u201cYou can\u2019t do this! Dad, tell her she\u2019s crazy! I\u2019m calling the cops!\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
He pulled out his phone and started dialing.<\/span><\/div>\n
I didn\u2019t flinch. I just looked at him and said, \u201cGo ahead, Jason. Call them. But before you do, you might want to remember that the phone in your hand is on a plan registered to my corporate account. The Wi-Fi you\u2019re using to upload Alyssa\u2019s video is paid for by my business. And the console you were playing on? My credit card.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
Jason\u2019s thumb hovered over the call button. His smirk faltered.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cDaniel,\u201d I said, shifting my gaze back to my husband. \u201cYou have exactly ten minutes to get their things into your car and drive them to Melissa\u2019s house. If you aren\u2019t off my property in ten minutes, I will call the police and have you all removed for trespassing.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t dare,\u201d Daniel whispered, his eyes wide with shock. \u201cRachel, this is your family.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I replied softly. \u201cFamily is what Ethan asked for when he was crying on the floor. Family is what Olivia deserved when her Christmas present was destroyed out of spite. You made it very clear who I am to them, Daniel. I\u2019m just the woman you married. And right now, that woman is evicting you.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and tapped the screen.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cNine minutes and forty seconds,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/div>\n
And then, I closed the door in their faces.<\/span><\/div>\n
I locked the deadbolt.<\/p>\n

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

<\/div>\n
My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, but my hands were completely steady. I walked into the living room. Ethan and Olivia were standing at the top of the stairs, staring at me with wide, terrified eyes.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cMom?\u201d Ethan whispered. \u201cIs Dad mad?\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I walked over and pulled him into a hug, kissing the top of his head. \u201cHe\u2019s confused, baby. But you don\u2019t ever have to worry about him breaking your things again. I promise.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
But the real nightmare for Daniel and the twins was just beginning. Because changing the locks was just the opening move.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
PART 4: The Digital Blackout<\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
You see, Daniel liked to pretend he was the patriarch of the house. He liked to act like he was the one providing for everyone. But the truth? Daniel\u2019s salary barely covered the mortgage and the basic groceries.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Everything else\u2014the luxury cars, the private school tuitions, the designer clothes, the gaming consoles, the orthodontist, the vacations\u2014was paid for by my income. I was a senior executive at a tech firm. Daniel was a “consultant” who spent more time on the golf course than in an office.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I had spent three years quietly subsidizing his lifestyle to keep the peace.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Not anymore.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Through the front window, I watched Daniel furiously typing on his phone. He was probably trying to call a locksmith, or maybe trying to transfer money.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
But at exactly 5:15 p.m., the digital guillotine dropped.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Inside the house, the smart-home system chimed. <\/span>\u201cGuest Wi-Fi network disabled.\u201d<\/span><\/em> \u201cStreaming services logged out.\u201d<\/span><\/em> \u201cSmart TV access revoked.\u201d<\/span><\/em><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Outside, Jason suddenly started yelling. I watched through the blinds as he tapped his phone screen frantically. His data was cut. His gaming accounts were suspended. He was holding a piece of black glass.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Alyssa started crying\u2014real crying this time\u2014because her cloud storage had just been wiped of her access, and her social media accounts, which I paid to verify and promote, were locked.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel was standing by his car, swiping his credit card at the gas pump down the street (I could see him from the window). The screen flashed red. <\/span>DECLINED.<\/span><\/em><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
He tried his backup card. <\/span>DECLINED.<\/span><\/em> He tried his emergency cash advance. <\/span>DECLINED.<\/span><\/em><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I had frozen every joint account. I had removed him as an authorized user on my primary cards. I had redirected all automatic bill pays to a new holding account.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
For the first time in five years, Daniel Carter was completely, utterly broke.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Ten minutes later, my doorbell rang.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I didn\u2019t open it right away. I let it ring. Once. Twice. Three times.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Then I opened it just a crack, keeping the security chain engaged.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel looked like he had aged ten years. The arrogance was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, sweating panic. Jason and Alyssa were sitting on the curb in the driveway, looking miserable and entirely disconnected from the world.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cRachel, please,\u201d Daniel begged, his voice cracking. \u201cWe need to talk. The kids are freaking out. My cards aren\u2019t working. The house is locked. What is this? What do you want?\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cI want you to listen,\u201d I said through the crack in the door. \u201cBecause I am only going to say this once.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cOkay. Okay, I\u2019m listening.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cJason told me I\u2019m not his mother. He told me he doesn\u2019t owe me respect. So, I am removing myself from the equation. I am no longer their bank account. I am no longer their chauffeur. And I am no longer their punching bag.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cRachel, they\u2019re teenagers! They didn\u2019t mean it!\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cI have it on the home security cameras, Daniel,\u201d I said coldly. \u201cAudio and video. He looked me in the eye and told me my son isn\u2019t his family. If he doesn\u2019t respect me in my own home, he doesn\u2019t get to live in it.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cWhere are they supposed to go?!\u201d Daniel yelled, gesturing to the kids.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I smiled. It wasn\u2019t a nice smile.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cMelissa is their real mother, isn\u2019t she? I\u2019m sure she\u2019d love to step up.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel\u2019s face went pale. \u201cMelissa? Rachel, you can\u2019t be serious. Melissa works part-time at a spa. She lives in a one-bedroom apartment. She can\u2019t afford them!\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cThen I suggest you figure it out,\u201d I said. \u201cBecause you have exactly one hour to get them to Scottsdale before I call child services to report that you\u2019re abandoning them on my lawn.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re bluffing,\u201d he whispered.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a manila envelope. I slid it through the crack in the door. It hit the porch floor with a heavy thud.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel looked down at it. The return address on the envelope was from a high-end family law firm in Phoenix.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not bluffing, Daniel. I\u2019m divorcing you. And if you don\u2019t get those kids out of my sight right now, I\u2019ll have my lawyer file for an emergency restraining order.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
PART 5: Enter The “Real” Mom<\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel stared at the envelope like it was a live grenade. He didn\u2019t pick it up. He just backed away, his hands shaking.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re destroying this family,\u201d he muttered, turning around.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019m saving my family,\u201d I corrected him. \u201cYou\u2019re just losing your wallet.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I closed the door and locked it again.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I went to the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea. My hands were finally starting to shake, but the feeling was incredibly liberating. For three years, I had walked on eggshells. I had swallowed my pride, ignored my instincts, and let two teenagers treat me like a servant because I loved their father.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I looked at Ethan and Olivia, who were sitting at the island, watching me in awe.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cWho wants pizza?\u201d I asked.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Olivia smiled. \u201cCan we get the fancy kind with the truffle oil?\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cAbsolutely,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd we\u2019re going to build a blanket fort in the living room. Right over the spot where the airplane broke.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
For the next two hours, the house was filled with laughter. We ordered from the most expensive Italian place in town. We built a massive fort. We watched movies on my private, password-protected tablet.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
It was the most peaceful evening I had experienced in years.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
But the peace was shattered at 8:30 p.m.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
A car screeched into my driveway. Tires squealed. Doors slammed.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I looked out the window and saw a silver BMW parked haphazardly on the grass. Melissa Miller was storming up my walkway, her heels clicking angrily against the concrete. She was wearing a silk blouse that I had bought for her at Christmas, and her face was twisted in a mask of pure entitlement.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel was trailing behind her, looking defeated.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The doorbell rang. I didn\u2019t even bother with the security chain this time. I opened the door fully.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Melissa didn\u2019t even say hello. She just shoved her way into the foyer, pointing a manicured finger at my chest.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cYou listen to me, you selfish bitch!\u201d Melissa screamed. \u201cYou do not get to punish my children! You do not get to lock them out! You are a glorified babysitter who got lucky, and I will sue you into the ground!\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I didn\u2019t raise my voice. I didn\u2019t step back. I just looked at her, completely unfazed.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cMelissa,\u201d I said calmly. \u201cYou\u2019re tracking mud on the rug I just had cleaned. And you\u2019re trespassing.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cI am the mother of those children!\u201d she shrieked, gesturing to Jason and Alyssa, who were standing on the porch looking thoroughly embarrassed. \u201cThey belong with me!\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cGreat,\u201d I said. I turned around, walked to the hallway closet, and pulled out a thick, black binder. I tossed it onto the entryway table. It landed with a heavy slap.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat is that?\u201d Daniel asked, his voice trembling.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cThat,\u201d I said, \u201cis the reality check.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I opened the binder and turned it around so they could see.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cPage one,\u201d I said. \u201cA list of every single item I have purchased for Jason and Alyssa over the last thirty-six months. Clothes, shoes, electronics, braces, cars, insurance, spending money. Total: $142,500.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Melissa\u2019s mouth fell open.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cPage two,\u201d I continued. \u201cA list of the emotional and physical abuse they have subjected my children to. The ruined markers. The broken toys. The verbal degradation. Documented with dates, times, and security footage.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Jason looked at the floor. Alyssa stopped crying.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cPage three,\u201d I said, looking directly at Melissa. \u201cThe cost of raising them for the next four years until they graduate high school. Since you are the \u2018real mother,\u2019 and you claim I have no authority, I am officially transferring that financial responsibility back to you. Effective immediately.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Melissa stared at the numbers. Her face went from red, to pale, to a sickly shade of green.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2026 I can\u2019t pay for that,\u201d she whispered. \u201cI make thirty thousand a year. I can\u2019t afford their private school. I can\u2019t afford their cars.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cThen I suggest you get a second job,\u201d I said coldly. \u201cOr sell that BMW. Oh wait, I bought that for Daniel, who let you lease it under his name. Which I just canceled this afternoon.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Melissa let out a strangled gasp and grabbed the doorframe to steady herself.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel finally found his voice. \u201cRachel\u2026 please. We can fix this. I\u2019ll talk to them. I\u2019ll make them apologize. Just\u2026 don\u2019t do this to me. I\u2019ll lose everything.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I looked at the man I had married. The man who had stood by and watched his children treat my son like garbage. The man who had let me be the villain so he could play the good guy.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cYou already lost everything, Daniel,\u201d I said softly. \u201cYou just didn\u2019t realize it until the bill came due.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
PART 6: The Final Blow<\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I walked over to the front door and opened it wide.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cThe boxes are on the porch,\u201d I told them. \u201cTake them. If you leave anything behind, it goes to charity.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cRachel, you can\u2019t be serious!\u201d Daniel cried, actually reaching out to grab my arm.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I slapped his hand away. The sound echoed through the foyer like a gunshot.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t ever touch me again,\u201d I said, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. \u201cIf you ever raise your voice to me, or let your children speak to my kids with disrespect again, I won\u2019t just change the locks. I will burn your entire life to the ground. Do you understand me?\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel was crying now. Actual tears streaming down his face. The tough, golf-playing, boundary-pushing patriarch was gone. In his place was a terrified, broke man who realized he had backed the wrong horse.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cMom, please,\u201d Jason muttered, looking at me with wide, shocked eyes. For the first time, he didn\u2019t look like Melissa. He just looked like a scared sixteen-year-old boy who realized the world wasn\u2019t going to bend to his whims anymore. \u201cI\u2026 I didn\u2019t mean it. About the airplane. I\u2019ll buy him a new one.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t buy a new one, Jason,\u201d I said. \u201cBecause you don\u2019t have any money. And neither does your father. Not anymore.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I looked at Alyssa. \u201cAnd you. Next time you want to tell my daughter that her mother doesn\u2019t run this house, remember who actually pays for the roof over your head.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Alyssa nodded frantically, wiping her mascara-stained cheeks.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cGet out,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel slowly picked up the first box. Jason took the second. Alyssa grabbed her makeup bags. They walked down the driveway in silence, loading the car while Melissa stood by the BMW, hyperventilating into her hands.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I watched them pull away. I watched Daniel\u2019s taillights disappear down the street.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
And then, I closed the door.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I locked the deadbolt. I engaged the security system. I set the perimeter alarms.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Then I walked back into the living room. Ethan and Olivia were standing there, holding hands.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cAre they gone?\u201d Ethan asked quietly.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re gone, baby,\u201d I said, pulling him into a hug. \u201cThey\u2019re gone.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cWill they come back?\u201d Olivia asked.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I admitted. \u201cBut if they do, we\u2019ll be ready.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
PART 7: The Aftermath (Six Months Later)<\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
People always ask me if I regretted it. They ask if I felt guilty for blowing up my marriage, for kicking out two teenagers, for ruining Daniel\u2019s life.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The answer is no. Not for a single second.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The divorce was brutal, but it was fast. Because I had all the documentation, and because Daniel had absolutely no assets to hide (I had already frozen everything), the judge granted me the house, full custody of my children, and a very generous settlement since my income had been the primary driver of our marital estate.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel tried to fight it at first. He tried to claim I was being vindictive. But then my lawyer played the security footage of Jason breaking the airplane and telling me I wasn\u2019t his mother. The judge didn\u2019t even let Daniel finish his testimony before ruling in my favor.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
As for the kids?<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Daniel and Melissa had to move into a tiny two-bedroom apartment in a bad part of Scottsdale. Daniel had to take a full-time job in sales just to make rent. Melissa had to get a job at a retail store because her spa went under.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Jason and Alyssa had to attend public school. They had to get part-time jobs at a grocery store to pay for their own phones and clothes.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I heard through the grapevine that Jason actually apologized to Ethan. Not because he wanted to, but because Ethan refused to speak to him, and Jason realized how lonely it was to have no friends and no money.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Alyssa stopped trying to be an influencer. She realized that without my money boosting her accounts, she was just a regular teenager. She actually joined the school debate team.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
They still visit Daniel on the weekends. But they don\u2019t come to my house. They don\u2019t eat my food. They don\u2019t use my Wi-Fi.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
And every time they see me, they say, \u201cHello, Rachel.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
With respect.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Last week, Ethan came home from school holding a brand-new, store-bought wooden airplane kit.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cJason gave me this,\u201d he said, looking up at me nervously. \u201cHe said he wanted to help me build it. He said\u2026 he said he\u2019s sorry.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I looked at my son. I looked at the kit. And then I smiled.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d I said, ruffling his hair. \u201cGrab the sandpaper. Let\u2019s go to the garage.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Because I learned a very valuable lesson that Thursday evening.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
You can\u2019t buy respect. You can\u2019t beg for it. And you certainly can\u2019t accept disrespect in the name of peace.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
But if you\u2019re willing to stand up for yourself, if you\u2019re willing to draw a line in the sand and say, <\/span>\u201cNot in my house,\u201d<\/span><\/em> the universe has a funny way of balancing the scales.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I\u2019m not their mother. I\u2019m not their bank account. I\u2019m not their chauffeur…………..<\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Continue read next >>> PART3: My stepson smashed my 8-year-old son\u2019s handmade airplane, looked me in the eye, and said I was not his real mom\u2014so that night, I stopped being the bank account, chauffeur, and invisible safety net his father had let him disrespect, canceled every privilege tied to my name, changed the locks, packed his things, and uncovered who had been teaching him to treat me like trash all along.<\/a><\/h1>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

PART 3: The Driveway Standoff I walked to the front door and opened it. Daniel was standing on the porch, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. Behind him, … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2802,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3532","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3532","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3532"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3532\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3535,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3532\/revisions\/3535"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2802"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3532"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3532"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3532"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}