My son laughed at my cast during Christmas dinner

By the time December arrived, I had already lent $230,000, and I saw no sign of return. Every time I brought up the subject, Jeffree would deflect, promise that we would resolve it soon, or simply change the conversation.

I started to notice a pattern. They always asked when I was alone, always with stories that generated guilt or urgency.

It was a Sunday morning when everything changed. I woke up early as always, and went down to make coffee. The house was still silent. I put the water on to boil, and that is when I heard voices coming from their bedroom. The hallway amplified the sound in a strange way, and I managed to hear every word with disturbing clarity.

Melany’s voice came first, too casual for what she was saying. She asked when I was going to die, just like that, directly, as if she were asking what time it was. I felt my body freeze. Jeffree let out a nervous laugh and asked her not to talk like that. But Melanie continued, relentless. She said I was 68 and could easily live another 20 or 30 years. That they could not wait that long, that they needed to find a way to speed things up, or at least ensure that when I died everything would go directly to them without complications.

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