I didn’t sleep well that night. I kept thinking about their words, about how they had coordinated their attacks—first Mark with his fake concern, then Clare with her poisoned offer. Both looking for the same thing: access to my money.
On Friday, Mark returned, this time with another excuse.
“Mom, I need to ask you for a favor. It’s temporary, I swear. We’re a little tight on bills this month, and we need to borrow about $3,000. I’ll pay you back in two weeks. My word.”
$3,000. A specific amount—an amount that proved they already knew how much I had.
“Mark, I’ve already lent you money. And you’ve rarely paid me back in full.”
“This time is different, Mom. This time I’ll pay you back,” he insisted. “I have a new project, a business opportunity, but I need capital to start.”
I shook my head slowly. “No, son. Not this time.”
His face changed. The mask cracked completely.
“I can’t believe you’re being so selfish,” he snapped. “You have money just sitting there doing nothing and you won’t help your own son, your own family.”
Selfish. That word hit me harder than anything else.
“Mark, I worked forty-two years for that money. It’s not selfish to protect what cost me so much to earn. It’s survival.”
“Survival?” he scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Mom, you’re old. What do you need so much money saved for anyway? You can’t take it with you.”
I just stared at him in silence. This man in front of me was no longer my son. I don’t know when I lost him, when he went down the wrong path, but the Mark I knew had disappeared a long time ago.
“I think it’s time for you to leave,” I said in a calm voice.
He left, slamming the door so hard it rattled the window frames.
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