Chapter 5 - The Prodigal Son
Day fifteen of the thirty-day notice.
I was staying in my master bedroom, the door secured with a heavy-duty deadbolt I had hired a locksmith to install. The house felt like a war zone. Valerie refused to speak to me, glaring daggers every time we crossed paths in the hallway.
That evening, a soft knock came at my door.
“Mom? It’s Mark. Can I come in?”
I unlocked the door. Mark looked terrible. He had lost weight, his clothes were wrinkled, and the arrogant sheen he usually wore was completely gone.
He sat on the edge of my bed and buried his face in his hands. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know about the money. I swear to God, I didn't know she was stealing from your retirement. The bank froze our joint accounts this morning because of the lawsuit. We have nothing.”
I looked at my son. The boy who used to bring me dandelions from the yard. The man who had sat silently while his wife tried to throw me out of my own dining room.
“I believe you didn't know about the money, Mark,” I said softly.
He looked up, a glimmer of desperate hope in his eyes. “You do? So you'll drop the suit? We can figure this out as a family.”
“No,” I said, the hope shattering instantly. “You didn't know about the money, but you knew she was abusing me. You knew she took away my pictures of your father. You knew she planned to put me in a home I didn't need. You let her erase me because it was easier than standing up to her.”
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“Mom, please. Where are we supposed to go?”
“You are a grown man, Mark. It is time you figure that out for yourself.” I stood up and opened the door. “You have fifteen days left.”
