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

I could hear Kiara laughing in the background. “We’ll see you Friday night. Have the garage ready and don’t make us look bad.”

He hung up without saying goodbye.

I stood there holding the phone to my ear, listening to the dial tone as tears stream down my cheeks. In my new kitchen, surrounded by unpacked boxes and dreams waiting to be built, I felt lonelier than ever. But amidst that overwhelming sadness, something else began to stir.

Something that had been dormant for years of being the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the woman who always yielded and forgave. A spark of something Marcus had seen in me when we were young, but which I had buried under layers of domesticity and sacrifice. Andre had made a mistake.

A very big mistake. Because if he wanted to play dirty, he was about to discover that his mother knew that game much better than he could ever imagine. The truth revealed.

The three days following that call were the strangest of my life. On the outside, I was the same Dalia I’d always been. Unpacking boxes, organizing the house, trying to adapt to farm life.

But inside, something had changed forever. That night, after Andre’s call, I couldn’t sleep. I stayed awake until dawn, sitting on the porch, looking at the stars and replaying my son’s words.

A burden, pathetic old woman. I’ll check you into a nursing home. Each phrase was like an open wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

But when the sun rose, a cold determination I hadn’t felt in decades had been born with the new day. On Wednesday morning, while cleaning the garage to make it my temporary room, I found an old box the previous owners had left behind. Inside were some unimportant papers and an antique landline telephone that still worked.

I plugged it in the garage, thinking I might need it. It was that same day that I overheard the first conversation. I was organizing some old blankets when the main house phone rang.

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