{"id":84191,"date":"2026-06-27T08:28:58","date_gmt":"2026-06-27T08:28:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191"},"modified":"2026-06-27T10:34:27","modified_gmt":"2026-06-27T10:34:27","slug":"at-307-am-i-drove-300-miles-through-a-blizzard-to-find-my-mom-barefoot-outside-a-hospital-my-stepfather-and-brother-dumped-her-there-after-she-refused-to-sign-over-her-house-they-thought-i-was-jus","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191","title":{"rendered":"At 3:07 AM, I drove 300 miles through a blizzard to find my mom barefoot outside a hospital. My stepfather and brother dumped her there after she refused to sign over her house. They thought I was just a quiet office girl\u2014they had no idea I own the forensic accounting firm auditing their entire company."},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"model-response-message-contentr_5a8990c9a58686a3\" class=\"markdown markdown-main-panel enable-luminous-fast-follows enable-updated-hr-color stronger\" dir=\"ltr\" aria-busy=\"false\" aria-live=\"off\">\n<p data-path-to-node=\"0\"><b data-path-to-node=\"0\" data-index-in-node=\"0\">Part 1<\/b><\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"1\">The glowing numbers on my nightstand read 3:07 a.m. when the phone shattered my sleep. I answered on the second ring. \u201cClaire,\u201d my mother whispered. Her voice sounded like crushed gravel. \u201cHelp me.\u201d Then, the dead, hollow dial tone.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"2\">I\u2019m Claire Vance. To my family back in upstate New York, I\u2019m just the quiet \u201cpaperwork girl\u201d who moved to Boston to do boring corporate spreadsheets. They don\u2019t know I run Apex Forensic Accounting, or that my signature sits on federal subpoenas putting white-collar criminals behind bars. When it comes to numbers, I don\u2019t feel panic; I calculate. But driving three hundred miles through a blinding New England blizzard, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned translucent, my calculations kept coming up zero.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"3\">It was 6:15 a.m. when my headlights finally swept across the rear service gate of St. Matthew\u2019s Hospital. The snow was falling horizontally now. Huddled against a concrete loading dock, wearing only a torn nightgown and shivering violently, was my mother. Her bare feet were purple. A dark, jagged bruise painted the entire left side of her jaw.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"4\">I threw my coat over her, scooping her icy frame into my arms to drag her toward the emergency sliding doors. \u201cMom! Look at me. Who did this?\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"5\">Her teeth chattered so hard she could barely form the syllables. \u201cWalter,\u201d she choked out, her fingers digging desperately into my forearms. \u201cHe wanted the Northstar Freight shares. The house. I said no. Daniel\u2026 your brother came over. I thought he\u2019d stop him, Claire. But Daniel held my phone. He screamed at me to sign.\u201d A sob racked her frozen chest. \u201cWhen I wouldn&#8217;t, they drove me here. They pushed me out the door and told me to die.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"6\">Inside the brightly lit triage room, while nurses scrambled for warm IV bags, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The screen flashed: <i data-path-to-node=\"6\" data-index-in-node=\"128\">Daniel<\/i>.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"7\">My little brother. Calling at dawn to play his part.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"8\">I thumbed the accept button, letting my voice sound small and meek.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"9\">\u201cClaire?\u201d Daniel\u2019s voice sounded artificially frantic. \u201cListen, Mom is having a severe psychotic episode. She ran out into the storm. Walter and I are looking everywhere\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"10\"><b data-path-to-node=\"10\" data-index-in-node=\"0\">Option A:<\/b> Play the na\u00efve sister, agree to meet them at the house, and walk straight into their trap with a hidden wire.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"11\"><b data-path-to-node=\"11\" data-index-in-node=\"0\">Option B:<\/b> Tell Daniel she\u2019s already at the hospital, lock down the security footage, and let the sheriff\u2019s deputies greet them at the ER doors.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"14\">Daniel thinks he\u2019s talking to the fragile sister who gets nervous ordering coffee. He has no idea who I really am. Whether Claire chooses Option A to bait the trap or Option B to drop the hammer, Walter\u2019s empire is already bleeding. Which move would you make? The rest of the story is below \ud83d\udc47<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"16\"><b data-path-to-node=\"16\" data-index-in-node=\"0\">Part 2<\/b><\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"17\">\u201cOh my god, Danny, are you serious?\u201d I injected a shaky gasp into the receiver, pacing outside Triage Room 4. \u201cI&#8217;m still in Boston. Did you call the police?\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"18\">\u201cWe&#8217;re filing a missing persons report right now,\u201d Daniel lied smoothly over the hum of a defrosting car heater. \u201cJust stay put, Claire. Walter\u2019s handling it. Don&#8217;t drive in this weather.\u201d <i data-path-to-node=\"18\" data-index-in-node=\"189\">Don&#8217;t come home,<\/i> he meant. <i data-path-to-node=\"18\" data-index-in-node=\"216\">Give us time to sanitize the crime scene.<\/i> \u201cOkay,\u201d I whispered. \u201cKeep me updated.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"19\">I hung up. The terrified sister vanished; the principal investigator took her place. Within ten minutes, Deputy Sheriff Miller\u2014a sharp, broad-shouldered man I\u2019d consulted for on a county RICO case two years ago\u2014was standing in the hospital corridor looking at the timestamped digital photos on my tablet. \u201cJesus Christ, Claire,\u201d Miller muttered, taking in the deep violet contusions on my mother\u2019s ribs. \u201cWe can get an Emergency Protective Order signed by Judge Hallowell in twenty minutes. But a hearsay assault charge against Walter Vance is going to turn into a high-priced legal war the second his defense team posts bail.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"20\">\u201cIt won&#8217;t be hearsay,\u201d I said, pointing toward the ceiling corridor. \u201cGet hospital security to pull the outdoor Gate 3 camera for 5:40 a.m. And Miller? Don&#8217;t arrest them at the house. Tell them a plow driver spotted a woman matching Helen Vance&#8217;s description near St. Matthew\u2019s. Bring them here to &#8216;identify&#8217; her.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"21\">While Miller went to coordinate with security, I sat on a vinyl chair and tethered my encrypted laptop to my phone\u2019s secure hotspot. Through the glass window of Triage Room 4, I watched a nurse gently wrap a thermal blanket around my mother\u2019s trembling shoulders. The woman who had worked double shifts to keep our family home out of foreclosure looked fragile enough to shatter. A cold, surgical rage settled deep into my chest. My family thought I spent my days reconciling petty cash for regional dental franchises. They didn&#8217;t know I possessed the backdoor administrative keys to Northstar Freight\u2019s corporate ledger.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"22\">My fingers flew across the keyboard, diving straight into the raw SWIFT transaction logs from the last ninety days. If Walter was willing to commit attempted murder over property deeds on a freezing Tuesday morning, the company wasn&#8217;t just illiquid; it was facing an immediate margin call. I filtered the ledgers by outbound transfers exceeding fifty thousand dollars. Row after row of standard freight logistics populated the screen, until my eyes caught an anomaly dated four days prior: a single, expedited wire of $2.4 million routed to a shell LLC in the Cayman Islands registered under the name <i data-path-to-node=\"22\" data-index-in-node=\"601\">Vance Holdings.<\/i><\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"23\">I clicked the digital authorization signature attached to the wire. My breath caught in my throat. It wasn&#8217;t Walter\u2019s digital key. It was Daniel\u2019s. My twenty-six-year-old brother hadn\u2019t just stood by while our mother was brutalized; he had drained Northstar Freight\u2019s primary operating reserves to cover massive personal gambling liabilities in Atlantic City. The transfer papers they forced my mother to sign weren&#8217;t to enrich Walter\u2014they were an emergency indemnity transfer designed to legally erase Daniel\u2019s embezzlement before the quarterly external audit triggered a federal wire fraud investigation. Walter wasn&#8217;t the puppet master; he was the muscle trying to save his stepson from a twenty-year sentence in a federal penitentiary.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"24\">\u201cClaire,\u201d Deputy Miller called out, jogging back down the hall with a grim expression. \u201cWe got the footage. Clear as day. But there\u2019s a major problem.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"25\">\u201cWhat?\u201d I asked, standing up.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"26\">\u201cThe license plate on the black Tahoe that dumped your mom,\u201d Miller said, lowering his voice. \u201cIt\u2019s not Walter\u2019s SUV. We ran the tags. It\u2019s registered to a corporate rental account at Logan Airport, checked out yesterday afternoon to a man named Arthur Pendelton.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"27\">My blood turned to ice. Arthur Pendelton was the senior managing partner at my own Boston accounting firm\u2014the man who had personally assigned me to audit Northstar Freight&#8217;s regional competitors three months ago. He wasn&#8217;t just visiting upstate New York; he was orchestrating the cover-up.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"28\">If you&#8217;ve read this far, don&#8217;t hesitate to leave a like and comment before reading part 3. It makes us as happy as reading a complete story! Thank you. \ud83d\udc4d\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"30\"><b data-path-to-node=\"30\" data-index-in-node=\"0\">Part 3<\/b><\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"31\">The puzzle pieces snapped together with terrifying clarity. Arthur Pendelton hadn\u2019t sent me to Boston to advance my career; he had sent me away so he could bleed my family\u2019s company dry. Pendelton\u2019s private equity partners wanted to acquire Northstar Freight\u2019s lucrative Northeast supply routes for pennies on the dollar. When Daniel racked up two million dollars in syndicate debt, Pendelton offered Walter a sickening deal: force Helen to sign over her controlling shares to cover the embezzlement, and Pendelton\u2019s firm would purchase the sanitized company, leaving Walter with a multi-million-dollar golden parachute.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"32\">Before Deputy Miller could reply, the heavy double doors of the ER hissed open. Snow swirled into the lobby as three men stamped their boots on the rubber mats: Walter, looking appropriately solemn in his shearling coat; Daniel, wearing a mask of frantic, breathless worry; and right behind them, holding a polished leather briefcase, Arthur Pendelton. \u201cClaire!\u201d Daniel cried out, rushing across the waiting room with open arms. \u201cThank God you got here safely. Where is she? The sheriff\u2019s office called Walter and said\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"33\">I didn\u2019t step into his embrace. I took two deliberate paces backward, placing myself directly between my brother and the door to Triage Room 4. \u201cShe\u2019s resting,\u201d I said. My voice didn&#8217;t shake. It carried the crisp, absolute authority of a federal courtroom. \u201cThe doctors finished documenting the orbital fractures, the contusions on her cervical spine, and the severe hypothermia from being dumped in the snow at 5:42 a.m.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"34\">Walter\u2019s jaw tightened. \u201cClaire, sweetheart, your mother wasn&#8217;t dumped. She wandered out into the woods behind the estate. Daniel and I have been searching\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"35\">\u201cSave the deposition for the Assistant U.S. Attorney, Walter,\u201d I interrupted, turning my laptop screen toward them. On the display was a frozen frame of the hospital\u2019s 4K night-vision security feed. Clear as crystal was Pendelton\u2019s rented black Tahoe, Daniel\u2019s face illuminated by the passenger-side door light as he shoved our barefoot mother onto the freezing asphalt.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"36\">Daniel\u2019s frantic expression instantly dissolved into pale, wide-eyed terror. \u201cAnd Arthur,\u201d I continued, shifting my gaze to my boss, whose arrogant posture had suddenly turned rigid. \u201cI pulled the SWIFT routing numbers for the two-point-four million Daniel wired to Cayman account 884-Vance last Tuesday. Funny thing about Cayman banking laws\u2014when an account is linked to a domestic subpoena involving interstate kidnapping, their privacy shield dissolves in six minutes. The holding account belongs to your wife\u2019s maiden name.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"37\">\u201cYou don\u2019t know what you\u2019re looking at, Claire,\u201d Pendelton warned, his voice dropping an octave into a lethal, quiet register. \u201cYou\u2019re an analyst. You look at spreadsheets.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"38\">\u201cI own Apex Forensic Accounting, Arthur,\u201d I said softly. \u201cThe firm the Department of Justice hires when regional directors try to launder syndicate money through upstate freight lines. I\u2019ve been building the federal indictment against your shell companies since October. You just handed me the predicate felony for a RICO charge on a silver platter.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"39\">Walter let out a feral, desperate snarl and lunged forward to smash the laptop. He didn\u2019t make it three feet. The side door of the administrative office banged open. Deputy Miller and four New York State Troopers flooded the lobby, hands unholstered. \u201cWalter Vance, Daniel Vance, Arthur Pendelton\u2014get your hands on the glass right now!\u201d Miller barked, his voice echoing off the sterile tiles. \u201cYou are under arrest for kidnapping, aggravated elder assault, and federal wire fraud!\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"40\">As the heavy steel handcuffs clicked around my brother\u2019s wrists, Daniel looked back at me, crying real tears now. \u201cClaire, please! Tell them! I\u2019m your brother!\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"41\">I looked at him coldly. \u201cMy family is in Room 4.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"42\">Two hours later, the morning sun finally broke through the dissipating blizzard, casting a warm, golden beam across my mother\u2019s hospital bed. She opened her bruised eyes, looking down at our intertwined fingers, then up at my face. \u201cYou saved me,\u201d she whispered softly. I squeezed her hand gently, offering her the first real smile I\u2019d worn in years. \u201cNo, Mom. We just balanced the books.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"43\">What do you think of this story? Please leave a like and share your thoughts in the comments. Your support means a lot to us and inspires us to keep writing more meaningful and powerful stories. Thank you! \ud83d\udc4d\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Part 1 The glowing numbers on my nightstand read 3:07 a.m. when the phone shattered my sleep. I answered on the second ring. \u201cClaire,\u201d my mother whispered. Her voice sounded like crushed gravel. \u201cHelp me.\u201d Then, the dead, hollow dial tone. I\u2019m Claire Vance. To my family back in upstate New York, I\u2019m just the [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":84195,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[42],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-84191","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-newlife"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v26.2 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>At 3:07 AM, I drove 300 miles through a blizzard to find my mom barefoot outside a hospital. My stepfather and brother dumped her there after she refused to sign over her house. They thought I was just a quiet office girl\u2014they had no idea I own the forensic accounting firm auditing their entire company. - Purposeful Days<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"At 3:07 AM, I drove 300 miles through a blizzard to find my mom barefoot outside a hospital. My stepfather and brother dumped her there after she refused to sign over her house. They thought I was just a quiet office girl\u2014they had no idea I own the forensic accounting firm auditing their entire company. - Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Part 1 The glowing numbers on my nightstand read 3:07 a.m. when the phone shattered my sleep. I answered on the second ring. \u201cClaire,\u201d my mother whispered. Her voice sounded like crushed gravel. \u201cHelp me.\u201d Then, the dead, hollow dial tone. I\u2019m Claire Vance. To my family back in upstate New York, I\u2019m just the [&hellip;]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-06-27T08:28:58+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2026-06-27T10:34:27+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-Jun-27-2026-03_28_39-PM.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"9 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191\",\"name\":\"At 3:07 AM, I drove 300 miles through a blizzard to find my mom barefoot outside a hospital. 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They thought I was just a quiet office girl\u2014they had no idea I own the forensic accounting firm auditing their entire company. - Purposeful Days","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-Jun-27-2026-03_28_39-PM.jpg","datePublished":"2026-06-27T08:28:58+00:00","dateModified":"2026-06-27T10:34:27+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-Jun-27-2026-03_28_39-PM.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-Jun-27-2026-03_28_39-PM.jpg","width":1000,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=84191#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"At 3:07 AM, I drove 300 miles through a blizzard to find my mom barefoot outside a hospital. 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They thought I was just a quiet office girl\u2014they had no idea I own the forensic accounting firm auditing their entire company."}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"Purposeful Days","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951","name":"Phong Nguyen","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Phong Nguyen"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/84191","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=84191"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/84191\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":84197,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/84191\/revisions\/84197"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/84195"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=84191"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=84191"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=84191"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}