I Bought A Country House With My Husband’s Inheritance To Get Away. Then My Son Called:

“What money did you use to buy a farm? Don’t tell me you blew dad’s insurance on that stupid thing.”

I was speechless. Stupid thing.

That’s what he called the dream his father and I had shared for decades. “Andre, I thought you’d be happy. It’s a beautiful place and there’s enough room for the whole family.”

“Mom, listen to me closely,” he interrupted.

And I could hear Kiara talking in the background, though I couldn’t make out the words. “I have plans for this coming weekend. Kiara wants to bring her parents and some friends up to see the farm.”

My heart filled with hope.

Maybe he’d reacted badly at first, but now he wanted to visit. “How wonderful, son. I’ll get the guest rooms ready and cook something special.

It’s been too long since I’ve seen Kiara.”

“No, Mom. Listen to me well because I’m not going to repeat it.” His voice was cold and calculating. “You’re going to fix up the garage for yourself.

Do you understand? Kiara doesn’t want her parents thinking we can’t afford a decent vacation spot. If you embarrass us in any way, if you make any comments out of line or act like the pathetic old woman you’ve become, I’ll check you into a nursing home so fast you won’t even know how you got there.”

The words hit me like physical blows.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe, that the walls of my new kitchen were closing in on me. My own son was asking me to sleep in a garage as if I were some kind of stray animal. “Andre,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“Why are you talking to me like this? I’m your mother.”

“You’re a burden, Mom. You have been ever since Dad died.

Kiara and I had plans for that insurance money. real plans, not farm fantasies like a 5-year-old kid. But the money, it was dad’s, and I’m his son.

I had more right to decide what to do with it than you did.”

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