“This is the deed to my house. Notice the date. It was transferred to the Reyes family three weeks ago—two days before you threatened me.”
The silence was deafening.
“That’s impossible,” Jessica whispered.
Robert Chen spoke for the first time, his voice calm and professional.
“It’s quite real. My clients purchased the property for $615,000 cash. Mrs. Henderson sold it willingly, in full possession of her faculties, with proper legal representation. She’s currently renting it back from us on a six-month lease.”
Derek stared at the document like it was written in a foreign language.
“You… you sold it?”
“I sold it,” I confirmed.
“Because six months ago, when you first started pressuring me, I realized where this was heading. So I took steps to protect myself.”
“You tricked us!” Jessica shrieked. “You let us think—”
“I let you reveal exactly who you are,” I said, my voice cutting through her hysteria like a blade. “I gave you every opportunity to stop—to be a family—to show basic human decency. Instead, you threatened me, tried to have me declared incompetent, attempted fraud with the realtor, and just last week you came to my house with fake counseling papers and forged credit card statements.”
“They weren’t fake,” Derek protested weakly.
Gerald slid another paper across the table.
“I called the Family Wellness Center. No Dr. Morrison works there. No counseling appointments were ever scheduled under your names.”
“And the credit card statements,” I added. “I had an accountant friend examine them. Photoshopped. The fonts don’t even match real Capital One statements.”
Jessica’s face went from red to white to gray. She looked like she might be sick.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I said, my voice completely calm now. “You’re going to leave me alone—permanently. No calls, no visits, no attempts at reconciliation. You’re going to accept that you have no claim to my property, my finances, or my life.”
“And if we don’t?” Derek’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Then Gerald files all of this with the police and the state attorney general’s office. Elder abuse, fraud, forgery, attempted financial exploitation.”
I counted them off on my fingers.
“Connecticut takes these crimes very seriously. You’re looking at felony charges, Derek. Years in prison. Your accounting license revoked. A criminal record. Everything you’ve built, gone.”
“You wouldn’t do that to your own son,” Jessica said, but there was no conviction in her voice.
I met Derek’s eyes.
“Try me.”
The man sitting across from me wasn’t the boy I raised. That boy had died somewhere along the way, replaced by this stranger who saw his mother as an obstacle—a resource to be exploited.
“I loved you,” I said quietly. “I gave you everything I had. Your father worked himself into an early grave so you could have a good life. And you repaid us by trying to steal the one thing we built together.”
My voice didn’t break. I wouldn’t give them that.
“You’re my son, Derek. You always will be. But right now, I don’t like you very much.”
Derek’s face crumpled. For a moment, genuine remorse flickered across his features.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened to me. Jessica, she—”
“Don’t you dare blame this on me,” Jessica exploded. “You wanted that house as much as I did.”
“You’re the one who said—” Derek shouted at her, then turned back to me. “Mom, please give me a chance to make this right. I’ll go to real counseling. I’ll fix this. Just don’t… don’t cut me out of your life.”
I stood, gathering my papers.
“That’s not my decision anymore, Derek. You cut yourself out when you chose money over family.”
I looked at Gerald.
“File the restraining order. If either of them comes within 100 feet of me or attempts to contact me in any way, you have permission to proceed with criminal charges.”
“No!” Derek lunged from his chair, but Linda and Robert both stood, blocking his path.
“Derek, don’t make this worse,” Linda said firmly.
I walked to the door, then paused and looked back at my son one final time.
“I hope someday you remember who you used to be. But until then, you’re not welcome in my life.”
Jessica’s voice followed me out.
“You’ll regret this. You’ll die alone and miserable.”
I didn’t look back.
In the hallway, Gerald caught up with me.
“Martha, are you all right?”
My hands were shaking now, adrenaline flooding my system, but I nodded.
“I’m fine. Better than fine.”
“That was the hardest thing I’ve ever watched someone do,” he said.
“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” I admitted, “but it was necessary.”
As I drove home, I didn’t feel triumphant.
I felt empty, drained, sad.
But also free.
The chains of obligation and guilt had finally broken.
The restraining order was filed that evening.
By Monday morning, Derek and Jessica had both been served with the papers, along with a formal notice from Gerald’s office outlining the evidence of attempted fraud and elder abuse, and warning that any further contact would result in immediate criminal prosecution.
I didn’t hear from them again.
Not a single call, text, or letter.
The silence was profound.
Three weeks later, Linda called.
“Martha, I thought you should know. Derek and Jessica are getting divorced.”
I sat down slowly.
“What happened?”
“Apparently, the stress of the legal situation made everything explode. Jessica blamed Derek for not handling you properly. Derek blamed Jessica for pushing him to extremes. It got ugly fast.”
Linda paused.
“Derek moved into a studio apartment. Jessica’s living with her mother now—ironically, the same mother she always claimed to hate.”
“How is Derek?”
“Honestly? A mess. He got put on administrative leave at work pending an ethics investigation. Apparently, someone sent them information about his attempt to commit fraud. He’s not handling it well.”
I felt a pang of something—not quite sympathy, not satisfaction either.
He was still my son.
Somewhere under all that damage.
“Linda, thank you for keeping me informed,” I said, “but I meant what I said. I can’t have contact with him right now.”
“I understand,” she replied. “But for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. Derek needed to hit bottom. Maybe this is his chance to find his way back.”
“Maybe.”
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