On my wedding day, my future mother-in-law raised a glass and announced that my car would be the perfect gift for her younger son. My fiancé squeezed my hand beneath the table, asking me to let the moment pass. But the blue minivan she meant belonged to Northline Mobility, the medical-transport company I had built, and its title carried restrictions no wedding toast could erase. When I smiled and said the car wasn't mine, I thought I was correcting one humiliating assumption. Then I learned my fiancé had promised it away before I ever walked down the aisle. How much of my life had he already offered to his family?