The room seemed to tilt. “At $100,000? And his mother has it?”
“Yes, in his basement. Zach showed it to me once when we were hanging out. He said it was for you and Benny one day.”
Suddenly, the designer clothes, the sports car, Doris’s sudden wealth… it all made sickening sense.
“I have to go,” I said, already grabbing my jacket. “Are you covering for me?”
Max nodded, concern etched on his face. “Are you going to be okay?”
I stopped in front of the door. “No. But I’m going to get what belongs to my son.”
An Anxious Woman | Source: Midjourney
Police Officer Sanders, according to his dog tag, glanced awkwardly between Doris and me as we stood in her immaculate living room.
“Ma’am, without documentation proving the money belongs to you or your son, there’s not much we can do,” he explained.
Doris stood with her arms crossed, triumph shining in her eyes.
“But it was my husband’s money,” I insisted. “He saved it for us.”
“Hearsay,” Doris replied. “Zach never told me about any of this.”
A police officer looking at his colleague | Source: Pexels
Officer Sanders sighed. “Ms. Tiana, I sympathize with your situation, I truly do. But from a legal standpoint, possession is nine-tenths of the law in cases like this.”
His partner, a younger officer who had remained silent until now, spoke up. “Although I must say, ma’am,” he addressed Doris, “I find it rather shocking that instead of helping your daughter-in-law and grandson, you would use your deceased son’s money to buy sports cars and expensive clothes.”
Doris flinched, the color draining from her face.
“Get out,” she hissed. “All of you.”
An angry woman standing in the doorway | Source: Midjourney
As I left, I spotted Zach in the family photos lining the wall. His smile, so similar to Benny’s, seemed to follow me to the door.
“I’m sorry,” Officer Sanders said when we reached the patrol car. “Sometimes the law doesn’t always align with what’s right.”
I nodded numbly. “Thanks for trying.”
That night, I held Benny close as we sat on our worn couch, a children’s movie playing softly on our secondhand television.
A woman watching television | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, why are you holding me so tight?” he asked, squirming.
I loosened my grip. “Sorry, honey. I just love you so much.”
He twisted to look at me. “Is it because you’re thinking about Dad?”
“Sort of. Benny, promise me something?”
“What, Mom?”
“Promise me you’ll never let money change who you are… that you’ll always be kind, even when it’s hard.”
His little face turned serious. “Like Dad always giving his sandwich to the homeless man in the park?”
Tears pricked my eyes. “Just like that.”
A Curious Little Boy | Source: Midjourney
“I promise,” he said solemnly, then added, “But Mom? Can we still go get ice cream sometimes, even if we don’t have much money?”
I laughed through my tears. “Yes, baby. We can always go get ice cream.”
***
Two days later, a knock at the door interrupted our modest breakfast of macaroni and cheese.
When I opened the door, I found not one person, but at least a dozen neighbors I recognized from our small street, and some I’d only greeted in passing.
Mrs. Patel, the neighbor, stepped forward. “Tiana, we heard about your stepmother.”
People stand in front of a woman’s house | Source: Midjourney
Behind her, Mr. Greene, the retired teacher across the street, held up an envelope. “Small-town gossip travels fast. What she did was wrong.”
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