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I stood there with the phone in my hand, processing what had just happened. My son had just asked me for more money the day after his wedding, after publicly humiliating me. And when I told him I had spent everything on him, he hung up on me.
It was in that moment that something inside me changed. For 70 years, I had been a submissive woman who swallowed her pride and put others before herself. I had accepted humiliation, disrespect, mistreatment, always thinking it was my duty to suffer in silence. But that phone call woke me up.
I walked to my bedroom and opened my dresser drawer. There, at the bottom, was an envelope I hadn’t touched in years. An envelope containing documents Ethan had never seen, documents that proved something he had never suspected. I took out the papers with trembling hands: certificates of deposit, property deeds, insurance policies, the inheritance from my father, which I had kept secret for decades, the assets I had accumulated by working not only at the garment factory, but also by intelligently investing every extra cent.
Ethan thought I was a poor retiree living on a miserable pension. He had no idea that his adoptive mother owned properties valued at hundreds of thousands of dollars. He didn’t know I had bank accounts at three different banks. He didn’t suspect that the woman he had just publicly humiliated was wealthier than his precious mother-in-law, Carol.
I smiled for the first time in months. Ethan wanted to know what it was like to have a real mother. Ashley wanted to see how much money she could get out of me. Carol wanted to erase me from my son’s life. Very soon, all three of them were going to find out who they were dealing with.
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