“You owe us, Mom. You raised us. That was your obligation. But you also owe us for all those years.”
“What do I owe you?” I repeated incredulously. “I gave you a university education that cost me years of extra work. I gave you every cent you asked for. I gave you a home, food, clothes. I gave you everything. And you gave me two years of silence when I was most alone.”
I pulled another document from the folder.
“This is a letter I wrote to you a year and a half ago when I got out of the hospital after the pneumonia. I never sent it because I knew you wouldn’t read it. In it, I told you how scared I was, how alone I felt, how having no one in that hospital was the most painful part of the whole illness.”
My voice broke slightly, but I continued.
“Margaret was a neighbor back then. She was the one who visited me every day. She was the one who paid for medicine I couldn’t afford. She was more family in two weeks than you were in a lifetime.”
Margaret took my hand across the table. The mediator watched everything with a grave expression.
“Mr. Mediator,” intervened James. “My client is not only defending herself against an unjust conservatorship. She is prepared to file formal charges for attempted fraud and forgery of documents against both children. We have all the necessary evidence. We have only waited to give them a chance to retract and desist from this farce.”
Richard Sterling and Catherine Pierce looked at each other. Clearly, they had not signed up to defend criminals. Catherine spoke first.
“Mr. Mediator, I request a recess to consult with my clients.”
“Denied,” replied the mediator firmly. “I think I have heard enough, and I think these young people need to hear something very clear.”
He stood up and we all did the same.
“Caleb Vance, Harper Vance. What you have attempted to do here today is a perversion of the legal system. Using elder protection laws as a tool for extortion is despicable, but attempting to do it against a mother who is clearly more mentally capable than you is pathetic.”
Harper tried to protest, but the mediator continued.
“I have reviewed the evidence presented. Mrs. Eleanor Vance is in full command of her faculties. Her financial decisions are rational and well planned. The request for conservatorship is completely denied.”
“Mom, please,” pleaded Caleb.
I looked him in the eye.
“I didn’t do anything. You did all this. I am just defending myself.”
The mediator spoke again.
“Furthermore, I am forwarding copies of all this evidence to the district attorney to evaluate whether criminal charges for fraud and forgery are appropriate. Mrs. Vance, do you wish to press formal charges?”
All eyes were fixed on me. This was the moment, the moment to decide if I wanted complete justice or if there was still something of a mother in me willing to forgive. I looked at Harper with her eyes full of crocodile tears. I looked at Caleb with his expression of a misunderstood victim. And I knew the answer.
“Yes,” I said with a firm voice. “I wish to press formal charges against both of them.”
Harper collapsed in her chair. Caleb went pale. Their lawyers started packing their things quickly, clearly wanting to distance themselves from the disaster.
The mediator signed several documents.
“This hearing is concluded. The defendants will be formally notified of the charges against them. I suggest you get good criminal defense lawyers, because you are going to need them.”
We left that room in silence. In the hallway, Margaret hugged me tight.
“You did it, Eleanor. You really did it.”
James smiled with professional satisfaction.
“That was perfect. The evidence was devastating.”
But I did not feel triumph yet. I felt a strange emptiness. I had waited for this moment for so long, and now that it had arrived, I felt strangely calm.
Behind us, I heard the hurried steps of Harper and Caleb leaving the building. I did not turn to look at them. There was nothing more to say.
The black folder rested under my arm. It had fulfilled its purpose, but the story hadn’t ended yet. The final act was still missing.
The following days were strange. I expected to feel relieved after the preliminary hearing. But instead, I felt a mix of emotions I couldn’t name. I had won the legal battle. I had exposed my children. I had protected my assets. But I had also lost something I would never get back.
James called me three days after the preliminary hearing.
“Eleanor, I need you to come to my office. Things have happened.”
I arrived that afternoon with Margaret. James had documents scattered over his desk and an expression I couldn’t completely decipher. There was some satisfaction, but also concern.
“Sit down,” he said, pointing to the chairs in front of his desk. “I have good news and news that is going to make you angry.”
“Let’s start with the bad,” I said, bracing myself.
“The DA reviewed the evidence we presented and decided to proceed with the charges. That’s good. But during the investigation, they discovered something else.”
James pulled out a new folder.
“Harper and Caleb didn’t just try to defraud you. They also forged documents to obtain a loan using your house as collateral without your knowledge.”
I froze.
“What?”
“About a year ago,” continued James, “the two of them partnered up and submitted documents to a private lender requesting a loan of $200,000. They used your property as collateral, forged your signature on all the documents, and even paid someone to impersonate you on a verification video call.”
Margaret exploded.
“Those bastards. Two hundred thousand dollars?”
“The loan was approved,” James went on. “They received the money but never made a single payment. The bank started foreclosure proceedings against your property six months ago. You never knew because they intercepted all the bank’s correspondence.”
I felt like the floor was moving under my feet.
“My house. They were going to take my house for a debt I didn’t even know existed. How did they intercept my mail?” I asked with a trembling voice.
“Caleb had a key to your house,” remembered Margaret. “He lived with you for years. He probably never gave it back.”
James nodded.
“Exactly. They checked your mailbox regularly, took everything related to the bank, and you never found out. The bank thought it was you who wasn’t responding to their demands.”
“And now?” I asked, feeling panic grow in my chest. “Are they going to take my house?”
“No,” replied James with a small smile. “And here comes the good news. When the bank discovered the fraud, they immediately canceled the foreclosure process. They were also victims. Now they are cooperating fully with the district attorney’s office. And better yet, they are suing Harper and Caleb for the $200,000 plus interest and penalties. That adds up to almost $300,000.”
“Do they have that money?” asked Margaret.
James shook his head.
“No. According to the bank’s investigation, they spent it all in less than six months. Harper completely renovated her condo, bought a new car, took two trips to Europe. Caleb invested in another failed business and spent the rest on who knows what.”
“So they are never going to pay,” I said, feeling a mix of justice and sadness.
“Probably not,” admitted James. “But the bank is going to seize everything they have. Harper’s condo, her car, everything. Caleb has nothing to seize because he has never had anything. Both will likely end up bankrupt and with criminal records.”
I leaned back in the chair, trying to process all this information. My children had not only abandoned me, not only tried to steal from me, but they had put the roof over my head at risk, and all for money they squandered on empty and superficial things.
“There is more,” continued James. “The DA wants you to testify at a formal hearing next week. They are going to formalize the charges and need your full statement.”
“I’ll be there,” I replied without hesitation.
“Eleanor,” said James with a softer tone, “you are still in time to withdraw the charges. I know they are your children. I know this is painful.”
I looked directly at him.
“James, if I withdraw the charges, what will they learn? That they can do whatever they want because, in the end, Mom always forgives them? I already spent my whole life teaching them that there are no consequences for their actions. It is time they learned differently.”
Margaret squeezed my hand.
“I am proud of you.”
That night, alone in my house, I checked the locks on all the doors. I called a locksmith and changed all the deadbolts. Caleb would never have access again. I checked my mailbox and indeed found some letters that looked like they had been tampered with. I installed a security camera pointing directly at the mailbox.
I also did something else. I took an old box from the back of my closet. Inside were photographs of when Harper and Caleb were little. Harper in her first party dress. Caleb in his soccer uniform. Photos of birthdays, graduations, Christmases that were once happy.
I looked at those photos for hours. I tried to remember at what moment those smiling children became the greedy adults who now faced criminal charges. I tried to find the exact moment everything broke. Maybe it was when Bob died and I had to work so much that I was never really present. Maybe it was when I gave them everything they asked for without teaching them the value of effort. Maybe it was when I allowed them to disrespect me the first time and said nothing.
Or maybe it wasn’t my fault at all. Maybe that was just who they were.
I put the photos back in the box. I didn’t throw them away because I couldn’t. But I didn’t take them out again either.
The next day, Harper called my phone. I let it ring until it went to voicemail. She left a message. Her voice sounded different—smaller, more scared.
“Mom, it’s me. Please pick up. I need to talk to you. This got out of control. We didn’t mean for it to go this far. Please, Mom, we can fix this. We are family.”
I deleted the message without a second thought.
Caleb also tried to contact me. He sent text messages.
“Mom, please. We made mistakes. But we are your children. You can’t do this. They are going to put us in jail.”
I didn’t reply.
That night, I received a call from an unknown number. I answered out of curiosity.
“Mrs. Vance?” It was a young woman’s voice I didn’t recognize.
“Yes, who is this?”
“My name is Jessica. I am Caleb’s wife. I need to speak with you.”
I didn’t know Caleb had gotten married. He had never told me.
“Please go on,” I said cautiously.
“Mrs. Vance, I know Caleb did terrible things. I didn’t know anything about this until the legal papers arrived. But I have a six-month-old baby—your granddaughter. And if Caleb goes to prison, I don’t know how I am going to support her alone.”
I felt a dagger in my chest. A granddaughter. I had a six-month-old granddaughter, and no one had told me.
“Why are you calling me?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“Because I need you to withdraw the charges. Please, not for Caleb, but for your granddaughter. She is innocent in all this.”
I closed my eyes.
“Jessica, I am very sorry for your situation. I am sorry that my son has put you in this position. But what he did has consequences. I cannot protect him from those consequences.”
“But your granddaughter, my granddaughter—”
“Your daughter,” I interrupted her with a firm voice, “has a mother who seems to care about her. That is more than many children have. And maybe, just maybe, this teaches her father to be a better man. But I am not going to withdraw the charges.”
She started crying.
“Please, Mrs. Vance, please.”
I hung up the phone. And then I allowed myself to cry for the first time in this whole process. I cried for the granddaughter I didn’t know. I cried for the desperate mother. I cried for the children I had lost long before this legal battle.
But I didn’t change my mind.
Margaret arrived an hour later. I had sent her a text. She was on her way before I could second-guess myself. We sat in my living room with hot tea.
“Did you hear?” I asked.
“That you have a granddaughter.”
“Yes. Caleb got married and had a baby and didn’t even bother to tell me.”
Margaret shook her head.
“I cannot believe the cruelty of that boy.”
“His wife called me,” I told her. “She asked me to withdraw the charges for the baby.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That no.”
Margaret hugged me.
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