Then came another sound—the unmistakable voices of grown-ups. Lila’s light, easy laugh.
“You know, Tom, we should rent out her spare room. She’s hardly ever home.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“We could get $600 a month without her noticing,” Lila went on. “With all her evening shifts, she’ll never catch on.”
Thomas chuckled. “Mom’s always been trusting.”
“And once she starts paying for swimming lessons,” Lila added brightly, “we can finally plan that Hawaii trip. Free babysitting!”
I froze—not from fear, but from a hollow ache that left me numb.
“The best part?” Lila giggled. “She thinks daycare is $800. It’s only $500. We pocket $300 every month.”
Thomas laughed softly. “And when she gets older, we’ll find her a nice nursing home. That extra room will finally bring in some income.”
“She’ll say yes to anything if it’s for Max.”
“Absolutely.”
The walkie-talkie slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.
I sat in the dark, staring at the wall I helped build. The wall they now wanted to cross—for their own profit.
My son. The boy I raised alone. Fed, clothed, loved without condition. How could he?
That night—and the nights after—I barely slept. Lila’s laughter echoed in my head, Thomas’s casual betrayal louder than any insult.
How do you give everything and still feel invisible?
I scrubbed dishes until my hands were raw. Skipped meals so they wouldn’t have to. Was I just a bank to them?
It became clear: they wouldn’t stop unless I drew a line.
Saturday was my 60th birthday. I kept the dinner small.
Thomas and Lila arrived with a store-bought cake and sunny smiles.
“Happy birthday, Mom!” Thomas said, kissing my cheek. “You look tired.”
Max handed me a drawing—three stick figures holding hands. “That’s you, me, and Rover!”
“Oh, we don’t have a dog,” Lila corrected gently.
“But Grandma wants one,” Max whispered.
Thomas laughed. “Mom can’t handle a dog. She struggles with herself.”
I set my cup down and stood slowly.
“Let’s have cake,” I said, “but first—a toast.”
I lifted my cup. They followed, smiling.
“To family,” I said. “To those we love.”
“To family!” they echoed.
“When your father died, Tom, I worked three jobs to keep us afloat. I gave up my dreams so you could chase yours.”
Thomas shifted nervously. “Mom… where is this going?”
“I gave you $40,000 for this apartment. I send $800 a month for Max’s daycare because I love him more than anything.”
Lila’s smile faltered.
“But I recently learned something,” I said, placing my cup down. “Daycare is only $500.”
Thomas went pale.
“So every month, you’ve taken $300 from me. You laughed about it. You planned to rent my room. You joked about a nursing home. After everything I’ve given you.”
“Mom, we can explain—”
“Explain what? Why you called me a pushover? Why you laughed at my trust?”
“You were eavesdropping!” Lila shot back.
“I got a walkie-talkie from Max. Sometimes the truth comes through plastic.”
“We needed the money, Mom—for the apartment, the car…”
“Did you need to lie to the woman who gave up everything for you?”
I went to the kitchen drawer and pulled out my checkbook.
“This ends today. No more $800. No more free babysitting. No more broken promises.”
I wrote a check for $500—the actual daycare cost.
“From now on, every penny I save will go into a fund for Max. When he turns 18, he’ll get it himself.”
“And my bedroom door stays locked.”
Silence stretched tight. Thomas stared at his hands. Lila opened her mouth, then closed it.
Max looked up at me, confused. “Are you mad, Grandma?”
I knelt beside him. “Not at you, sweetheart. Never at you.”
“Can we still use the walkie-talkies?”
I touched his cheek. “Every night. That’s our special thing.”
Thomas finally spoke. “Mom… please. We’re sorry. We’ll pay it back.”
“With what?” I asked softly. “With what money?”
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