Thomas chuckled. “Once she’s too old to help, we’ll just put her in a nursing home. Then rent out her place. That spare room is basically a side hustle.”
“She’s such a pushover. Say it’s for Max, and she folds.”
“Absolutely!!”
The walkie-talkie slipped from my trembling hand and hit the floor with a crack.
I sat in silence, staring at the wall I helped pay for—the same wall they planned to exploit.
My own son. The boy I raised. Who I fed, clothed, protected. How could he?
The static died, and a silence fell that felt colder than any winter.
I didn’t sleep that night. Or the next. Their voices echoed in my head, louder than any dream.
How do you give your heart to people, and still vanish in their eyes? How do they forget your love and only see a wallet?
I scrubbed harder the next day. My fingers bled. My stomach growled. And still, all I could think about was what I’d heard.
That’s when I decided: enough. No more silence. No more pretending.
Saturday was my 60th birthday. I invited them to dinner.
Thomas and Lila arrived with a cake from the grocery store and fake grins.
“Happy birthday, Mom!” he said, pecking my cheek. “You look exhausted!”
Lila put down the cake. “We’ve been thinking—it might be time you got some help around here. Maybe a cleaning service?”
For illustrative purpose only
I poured coffee, calm and steady. “How thoughtful.”
Max ran over with a crayon drawing and a flower. “Grandma! I made this for you!”
It was us—three stick figures and a dog. “You, me, and Rover!” he said proudly.
“But we don’t have a dog, Max,” Lila said, chuckling.
“Grandma wants one! She told me.”
Thomas laughed. “Mom can’t even care for herself, let alone a dog.”
I set down my cup and stood. “Let’s have some cake. But first, a toast.”
I raised my mug. They followed.
“To family. The ones we trust most.”
“To family!” they repeated.
“I always thought family was everything. When your dad died, Thomas, I worked myself to the bone so you could have a future. I gave you $40,000 so Max could grow up next to me. I send you $800 every month for daycare. All out of love.”
Thomas shifted in his seat.
“But recently, I learned the daycare only costs $500.”
Their smiles disappeared.
“You’ve been stealing from me. For months. And you were plotting to rent my room behind my back. Laughing about me while planning to dump me in a nursing home when I’m no longer convenient.”
“Mom, please…”
“Please what? Explain how you betrayed the woman who gave you everything?”
Lila stood quickly. “You were spying on us?”
“With the toy your son gave me. It’s funny how truth slips out when you’re not watching.”
“We didn’t mean harm. We just—”
“Needed money? So you lied? Took what wasn’t yours?”
I walked to the drawer, pulled out my checkbook. Their eyes followed, confused.
“This ends now. No more $800. No more unpaid babysitting. No more being used.”
I wrote a check for $500. “This is the real daycare cost. And from now on, every dime I save goes into an account for Max. He’ll get it at 18—directly from me.”
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