My breath vanished. “What are you talking about?”
“I changed the bank details a year ago. Every transfer went to me. Mom thinks you disappeared. She thinks you left for the U.S. and forgot about her.”
The world tilted.
Three years of double shifts. Three years of skipping meals. Three years sleeping on the floor so he could have the bed.
And he had stolen not just my savings—but my mother’s trust.
“She’s sick,” he added quietly. “She needs heart surgery. She thinks her eldest son abandoned her when she needed him most.”
I couldn’t stop crying.
“How long were you planning this?” I asked.
“From the beginning,” he replied. “You were always too kind. Too easy.”
That was when the vans pulled up.
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