Dany opened his mouth but words failed him. The truth, which had been hidden beneath a veil of deceit, was unraveling with each passing second. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper, “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

He went on to explain how he’d been receiving $8,000 every month from Max’s trust fund, meant to support me in my final years. Instead of forwarding the full amount, he’d been pocketing most of it to fund his lavish lifestyle—expensive suits, flashy cars, extravagant vacations.

The betrayal cut deeper than any knife. This was my son, the boy I’d raised with love and care. And for what? To be deceived and left struggling, all while he basked in comfort and luxury? I felt a mix of anger and sorrow, each battling for dominance in my heart.

Max looked horrified, his gaze filled with both sympathy and disappointment. “Dad, how could you?” he asked, his voice heavy with emotion. “That money was meant for Grandma.”

Later, as the family dispersed and the house fell into silence, I found myself sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the stack of bills Dany had brought me earlier. I realized that I’d been clinging to an illusion, a belief that my son was doing the right thing by me.