“I am going to withdraw my money from the account. You already gave yours to your wife,” I told my son.
“But my wife still needs $300,000! She is already on her way by taxi!” he said, indignantly.
I remained silent—and when my daughter-in-law entered the apartment, I was stunned by what I saw.
I am withdrawing my money from the account.
You already gave yours to your wife, I told my son, Caleb, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage in that moment.
My hands were shaking as I gripped the phone, but my words came out clear, leaving no room for doubt. On the other end of the line, I heard his breathing hitch—that sound of someone about to explode, but trying to hold it together.
“But, Mom, my wife still needs $300,000.
She’s already on her way in an Uber,” he shouted with an indignation that pierced my chest like a knife.
I remained silent, feeling my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst right out of my rib cage. Then I heard the doorbell of my apartment ring.
I hung up the phone.
I walked toward the door with heavy legs, feeling like every step was leading me toward a cliff from which there would be no return.
When I opened it, there she was—Veronica, my daughter-in-law. She was wearing a champagne-colored dress that must have cost more than three months of my rent, high heels that looked like an insult to gravity, and a designer handbag I recognized because I had seen it in a fashion magazine she accidentally left on my coffee table the last time she visited. She walked in without waiting for an invitation, with that arrogance I knew all too well, looking me up and down as if I were a stain on her perfect world.
I was stunned not by her expensive clothes or her attitude.
I was stunned because, in that moment, watching her walk into my humble apartment with all that haughtiness, I understood with absolute clarity that I had been a fool for two whole years.
My name is Eleanor.
I am 63 years old, and I have been a widow for five years. My husband Arthur, God rest his soul, worked his entire life as an accountant for a mid-sized firm.
We didn’t earn a fortune, but he was a cautious man, the kind who saved every dollar thinking about the future. When he died of a sudden heart attack, he left me $800,000 in savings—a fortune for someone like me who always lived within my means, without luxuries, without excess.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
