I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, but her tone made me listen. I opened my old laptop, and she sat down next to me. I finally logged on. I saw it before she spoke. The balance. It wasn’t normal. She scrolled silently. I watched her face, my heart pounding. When she turned to me, she didn’t speak like a judge. She spoke like a woman who’d seen too many stories like mine. « Ms. Wynn, » she said softly. « Your account has been drained all year. Multiple withdrawals, thousands of dollars, mostly transfers to a secondary account. » I felt a chill run down my spine. « It must be André’s. He’s in charge. » She tapped out a line: « Look. Jewelry. Resorts. Electronics. Even ‘advice’ payments. And it’s all going through his personal account, not a business account. This isn’t helping. » « This is an abuse. » My throat tightened. « He’s just stressed. He told me it was tight. He’s trying to throw something. » Nora gave me a look—not cruel or judgmental, but real. « Dolores, » she called me by my first name for the first time. « You’re not a bank. And you’re not here to be fleeced with a smile. » My lips trembled. « But he’s my son. » « And you’re his mother, » she countered. « And you’re worth more than what he’s doing to you. You raised him. You worked hard. You don’t owe him everything you have. » I stood still, my hands clenched so tightly they hurt. She gently closed the laptop. « You asked for help. I can help you. But only if you’re willing to stop letting your kindness become a weakness. »
I didn’t answer right away. I stared at the tiles, thinking about all those years scrubbing those same tiles on my knees, every receipt I kept, the hairstyles I avoided to buy soccer cleats, the nights I pretended not to be afraid when money was tight. I thought about my birthday, the table set for no one, the palm trees under which they toasted with my money. « I don’t want to hurt him, » I whispered. « You’re not hurting him, » she said. « He’s hurting you. » We didn’t finish everything that day. I needed time. Nora understood. She gave me her card: « Call me if anything happens. »
It didn’t take long. The following week, André showed up. Smiling. « Hi Mom, » he said as he came in. « Good news. I found a house. A fixer-upper with potential. I need to make an offer quickly before it slips through my fingers. I need 40,000 for the down payment. Maybe you could advance me part of the inheritance before it’s too late. » At that point, I was speechless. I looked him straight in the eye. He didn’t even flinch. He really thought he was entitled to the life I’d built. « I don’t have that kind of money, » I said. He leaned back in his chair. « Of course you do. You just don’t want to help. » My voice was flat. « You’ve helped yourself enough, André. I saw the deductions. » His face changed. « Excuse me? » « I saw the hotel bills. The jewelry store. » « Electronics. You emptied my account. » He stood up. « You went through MY stuff. » « No, » I said calmly. « MINE. » He sighed. « So what, you’re cutting me off now? After everything I’ve done for you. » « You mean after helping yourself, » I said, standing up. « After lying to me, leaving me alone on my 75th birthday while you were drinking and dancing at MY expense? » « Go ahead, » he spat. « You’ll end up all alone. Don’t call me when you need something. » I took Nora’s card and, staring into her eyes, said, « I won’t call. » He slammed the door.
I stayed there, letting the silence return. Then I picked up the phone and called the woman who had opened my eyes. « Nora? Let’s begin. »
Everything happened so fast. That same week, Nora helped me transfer my accounts, freeze my credit, and revoke André’s access. The calls started immediately. Then the messages: « Mom, we need to talk. Why is my card being declined? Call me back, it’s serious. » I didn’t reply. No need to anymore. Nora said the paperwork would take a few days, but that André would feel the cut as soon as everything was frozen—which is exactly what happened. I pictured him at the checkout, swiping my card, « declined. » His eyes narrowing, his voice rising. Then the panic when he discovered the banking app wasn’t working anymore. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel guilty. I felt free.
Freedom, of course, comes knocking. One Saturday morning, around ten o’clock, I was folding laundry when I heard heavy footsteps on my porch. Before I could look, the door flew open: André, loud and furious. « What the hell is going on? » I remained calm. I had rehearsed this scene every night since my call to Nora. « You’ll have to be more specific, » I said, looking at him. He sighed. « My business account is frozen. My banking app is locked. The card for bills was declined at the gas station. Are you trying to humiliate me, Mom? » « I’m trying to protect what’s mine. » He moved closer. « You’re doing this to your own son? » « No, » I said softly. « You’re the one who did it to me. »
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