“You’re family,” David said. “You’re supposed to help.”
Something inside me went completely still.
“No.”
The word was soft, but it landed hard.
David looked stunned.
Chloe’s expression snapped from pleasant to furious.
“You’re really going to turn your back on your own son?” she spat.
She followed me outside, shouting insults for the neighbors to hear.
And then she hit me.
As I stood there, face throbbing, I finally understood the truth.
I wasn’t a mother to them anymore.
I was an asset. A backup plan. Something to drain.
I went inside, locked the door, and called the police.
Later, when the street was quiet again, I opened my old filing cabinet.
At the very back sat a thin, forgotten folder.
Inside was a signed promissory note.
Forty thousand dollars.
David’s signature at the bottom.
