His words hung in the air, a loud echo in the silence that followed. Forks paused mid-air, eyes darted from Max to me to Dany, whose face had turned a peculiar shade of white. Confusion and disbelief swirled in my mind like a storm.

“$8,000,” I repeated softly, my eyes locking onto my son’s. Dany shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his confident demeanor crumbling.

The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with tension. “What’s going on, Dany?” I asked, my voice a mix of hurt and astonishment. “You’ve been giving me $1,000, not $8,000. What’s Max talking about?”