“Did you have a phone?”
“At first.”
“What happened?”
“My mother took it,” she said softly. “She said calls would distract you… and that money was tight.”
Money.
Tight.
I had been sending thousands every month.
“How long were you living out there?”
“…almost four years.”
No one breathed.
I turned to my mother.
She stood there in pearls.
Perfect.
While my son starved.
“You have one hour to pack,” I said.
She laughed. “You’d throw your own mother out?”
“You threw my family out four years ago,” I said. “I’m just correcting it.”
Then I pulled out my phone.
Six seconds later—both her and Claire’s cards were frozen.
Their faces changed instantly.
I called the bank. Reported everything.
Then I opened the safe.