My Son Said Firmly “Pay The Rent Or Move Out!” He Did It In Front Of Twenty Two People At Christmas Dinner. My Daughter In Law Added, “Let’s See How You Manage.” I Packed My Things, Went To My New House… And Stopped Covering Any Extra Costs Or Help I’d Quietly Handled For Them.

My apron was stained with gravy. My hair was pulled back in a simple bun. My hands, wrinkled by the years, trembled slightly as I held the heavy serving platter.

“Lucy, sit down for a moment,” my cousin Sarah told me with that condescending smile I knew so well. “You’ve done enough.”

“It’s fine. I’m okay,” I replied, forcing a smile.

From my position next to the open-plan kitchen counter, I could see the whole dining room. Matthew sat at the head of the table in his white linen shirt and that Rolex watch Audrey had given him last year. He was talking to his cousin Alex about his latest project—an office building on Park Avenue.

“This month has been absolutely insane,” Matthew was saying, gesticulating with his wine glass. “The client is pushing hard on the deadlines. But hey, the salary for a senior architect in New York isn’t bad at all.

It’s enough to keep this place, the car, and everything else.”

Audrey, sitting next to him, smiled with satisfaction. She wore a red dress that probably cost more than a nurse’s monthly salary. Her perfectly manicured nails sparkled as she stroked Matthew’s arm.

“And even so,” Audrey added, raising her voice slightly so everyone could hear, “the bills never stop coming. This house, the decorations, maintaining the lifestyle—nothing is free in New York City.”

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