Chapter 3 - The Desperate Act
Three days passed without a single word from my son.
I spent the time moving from the cheap motel into a beautiful, secure luxury apartment downtown.
I bought myself new clothes, went to the salon, and started remembering what it felt like to be a person, not just a servant.
On the fourth evening, there was a frantic, aggressive knocking at my apartment door.
I checked the security camera feed on my phone.
It was Clara and Martín, looking disheveled, panicked, and entirely furious.
I calmly walked to the door, leaving the security chain attached, and opened it just a crack.
"Mom! What is going on?" Martín yelled, trying to push the door open, but the chain held firm.
"Why are all our credit cards declining, and why is the bank saying our accounts are frozen?" Clara demanded, her face red with anger.
I looked at them, truly seeing them for the first time in years.
They looked small, pathetic, and entirely dependent on the woman they had thrown out like trash.
"I am simply following your orders, Clara," I said with a polite, icy smile.
"You told me to leave, so I took my money and left."
"But you cut off the groceries! The twins have nothing to eat!" Clara shrieked, using her children as weapons once again.
"You both have six-figure salaries," I replied calmly.
"Perhaps you should stop buying designer handbags and start buying oatmeal."
Martín’s face shifted from anger to a desperate, manipulative sadness.
"Mom, please, you’re hurting your own grandchildren," he pleaded, trying to play on my maternal guilt.
"No, Martín, you are hurting your children by committing federal fraud," I whispered through the crack in the door.
Both of their faces went entirely white at the mention of the word fraud.
"I know about the forged power of attorney," I continued, watching them physically recoil.
May you like
"My lawyer knows, and the police know."
I closed the door in their stunned faces and locked the deadbolt with a satisfying click.
