At the time, I didn’t understand why I would ever need to record anything.
Now I knew.
I touched the red button. A small timer started running on the screen. It was recording.
I lifted the phone subtly, aiming it toward the corner table where my son and his wife were still enjoying their lunch, oblivious to my presence. They were close enough, about thirty feet away. Their voices came through clearly, crisp, condemning.
Michael cut another piece of steak and, while chewing, continued talking.
“The bank deposited the money into an account I opened two months ago, an account in my name. Obviously, Mom has no access to it. I already transferred fifty thousand dollars for the deposit on the new place. The owner is waiting for me to sign the contract tomorrow.”
My breathing became irregular.
Fifty thousand dollars.
He had already spent fifty thousand dollars of that stolen money, of my money. Because even if I hadn’t authorized it, even if I knew nothing, that loan was in my name. I was responsible. I was the one who would have to pay it. I was the one who would lose everything.
Christina clapped softly, her hands making a dry sound that grated on my nerves.
“I’m so proud of you, honey. I always knew you were smart, but this exceeded all my expectations. And the restaurant permits?”
“They’re already in process,” Michael replied with that proud voice I knew so well. The same voice he used to tell me his achievements when he was a boy, when he won an award at school, when he got his first job, when he got married.
I had always been so proud of him.
And now that pride had turned to ash in my mouth.
“I calculated everything perfectly,” my son continued. “In six months, the restaurant will be up and running. In a year, we’ll be earning enough to live well, and Mom will be in some cheap nursing home trying to understand what happened to her house.”
He laughed.
That laugh drilled into my ears.
“The best part is that legally I did nothing wrong. She signed everything. Her signature is on every document. If anyone asks, I just helped her with the paperwork because she doesn’t understand these things.”
Christina looked at him with admiration. That nauseating admiration of someone looking at a person who had just done something brilliant.
“You’re a genius, Michael. A genius. Your mom should be proud to have raised you so smart.”
They both laughed again. That laugh, which no longer sounded human to me, sounded like the shrieking of animals celebrating over dead prey.
I kept recording.
Every word, every laugh, every detail of their macabre plan was being registered on that small device I held with hands that weren’t shaking as much anymore.
Rage was replacing the fear.
Determination was replacing the shock.
I was not going to be his victim. I was not going to let myself be destroyed like this.
“What if she goes to the police?” Christina asked suddenly.
My heart sped up. For a second, I thought they had seen me. But no. She was just being cautious, covering all the possibilities.
Michael shook his head, completely relaxed.
“She won’t go to the police. First, because she won’t suspect me. Second, because even if she does, she would never report me. I’m her only son. She loves me too much. She’d rather lose everything than see me in trouble.”
He took a sip of his drink.
“I know her better than anyone. She’s weak. She always has been. That’s why she was so easy to manipulate.”
Weak.
He called me weak.
Me, who worked until my hands were raw to give him everything. Me, who went without food many times so he would have lunch at school. Me, who sewed dresses day and night to pay for his college.
Weak.
That word echoed in my head like a broken bell.
“Besides,” Michael added, wiping his mouth with his napkin, “she’s old. She’s sixty-eight. How much time does she have left? Ten years? Fifteen, if she’s lucky? She’s not going to spend those years fighting with me. She’ll accept what happened and move on. She’s always been like that. Submissive, obedient, the perfect mother who never questions anything.”
Christina sighed with satisfaction.
“I wish my family was as easy to manage as yours. My brother won’t leave me alone, always asking to borrow money. Your mom, on the other hand, is a sweetheart. Never asks for anything. Never bothers. Always there when you need her.”
The irony of her words made me clench my teeth.
Always there when you need her.
Yes. Always there to be robbed, tricked, used.
“That’s why I chose her for this,” Michael said with a coldness that froze me. “I knew she was the perfect target. She trusted me blindly. She had a house with no mortgage that could serve as collateral. She doesn’t understand anything about finances or banks. She was the ideal victim.”
Ideal victim.
That’s how my son saw me.
Not as his mother. Not as the woman who gave him life.
As an ideal victim.
The waiter approached their table.
“Would you like to order dessert?” he asked with the kind voice of someone doing his job, unaware he was serving two monsters.
Michael nodded.
“Yes, bring us the chocolate cake to share and two coffees.”
