My son kicked me out when he found out I lost my job—but he had no idea I had a secret fortune
I gave everything to my son Ethan. For 30 years, I poured my life into raising him, working tirelessly, nursing him through illness, paying for his education. I even gave up my marriage, gave up my own life, just so he could have a better one.
But the day I told him I had lost my job, his first response was to throw me out, calling me a useless burden, a parasite. That was the moment I stopped swallowing my pride. I refused to be the mother who got stepped on any longer.
I was going to stand up for myself. Ethan thought I had nothing. What he didn’t know was that my late employer who really respected me for the past years I devoted had left me a fortune.
And this time, I’ll make sure him realize that the price of betraying me is far greater than he could ever imagine. I had just gotten home when I told my son Ethan that I wouldn’t be working for Catherine anymore. I hadn’t even gotten to explain why before his face darkened and he cut me off mid-sentence.
His voice rose sharply, his face flushing with anger. Why would you suddenly quit? That was $8,000 a month. What are you planning to do now? Just sit around freeloading.
The bit of joy I’d felt coming home instantly vanished. Did he really think I left that job just to take it easy? I came back because I wanted to make life easier for them. His words hit me like a slap in the face but I didn’t lash out.
I knew he’d been under a lot of pressure these past few years. His wife, Nicole, came from a family that never thought of ours. Her mother’s a university professor and her father works in local government.
They’ve always looked down on Ethan’s background. To them, their daughter married beneath her. Nicole, following their lead, constantly took jabs at him, calling out his salary, his upbringing, anything she could to chip away at his confidence.
Still, I figured once they found out about the inheritance Catherine left me, $8 million, they’d finally see Ethan in a new light. Maybe even treat him with some respect for once. But I didn’t bring up the money.
Not yet. Instead, I mentioned the other reason I’d come home. Didn’t you say Nicole’s planning to get pregnant soon? I thought I’d come back early to help out, support her during the pregnancy, help with recovery afterward, maybe even lend a hand with the baby.
Nicole’s expression turned cold in an instant. I could have sworn she even scoffed. Postpartum recovery requires professional care, she said flatly.
You used to work as a housekeeper. What would you know about that? Her mother, Susan, shot me a dismissive look and chimed in without missing a beat. Taking care of a newborn isn’t just diapers and bottles.
It’s a science. You need actual training. This isn’t something amateurs can handle.
The two of them tag-teamed their condescension so seamlessly, it was clear they’d already rehearsed this routine. And just like that, I’d been written off as an unfit caregiver. I gave a silent, bitter laugh.
Nothing had changed. They still saw me as beneath them. Still, to keep the peace, I forced a smile and said, Well, if everything’s already arranged, I won’t get in the way.
I’ll leave the baby care to you. Susan rolled her eyes, like that was the only sensible thing I’d said all evening. Fine, she replied.
But you’ll cover the cost of the nanny and the baby nurse. I’ll handle the hiring and coordination. That one line left me speechless, a tight knot forming in my chest.
My son Ethan jumped right in, picking up where Susan left off without missing a beat. Exactly, Mom, you never should’ve quit that job. Our expenses are about to double soon.
You really ought to keep working. That’s when it hit me, clear as day. They never wanted me to come home to rest.
They just needed a steady paycheck funneled into the household. I was nothing more than a laborer to them, a walking ATM. My face hardened.
I’m 58. I think it’s time for me to get some rest and retired. Retired? Nicole let out a bitter laugh.
You don’t even have a pension. What retirement are you talking about? Her words nearly knocked the air out of me. I wanted to pay into a retirement plan years ago.
It was you all who told me to save the money and help pay off your mortgage early instead. Now you throw that in my face. Nicole tossed her hair and snapped.
That’s because your income was pathetic. Who told you to buy a house you couldn’t afford without a loan? You should’ve planned better. Ethan, now trying to calm Nicole down, raised his voice at me.
Enough, Mom. Nicole’s trying to get pregnant. You’re just stressing her out.
This is when we really need the money and you should be helping. You’re still in great shape. There’s no reason you can’t keep working another 20 years.
Save the retirement talk for when you’re 80. Another 20 years. I froze, hollowed out by a wave of sadness I couldn’t put into words.
After everything I’d given, every sacrifice, every hour worked, every dollar earned, I was still nothing more than a cash machine in their eyes. That’s when I truly saw it for what it was. All the talk of respect and gratitude, just sugar-coated lies to keep me working.
Back when Ethan was still in college, he’d already started dating Nicole. To help them live more comfortably, and to appease Nicole’s judgmental family, I left everything behind and moved to another city to work as a live-in housekeeper, just so I could save enough to buy them a house. They didn’t pay a single cent, yet the deed bore only their names.
And back then, with tears in their eyes, they told me, one day when we’re better off we’ll take care of you. You’ll finally get the life you deserve. But now I know what they meant by, the life I deserve.
A life of endless labor right up until my body gives out at 80. I held back my tears, steadied my voice and said firmly, I said I’m retiring. That’s final.
No one gets to make that decision for me. Susan must’ve realized I was serious and worried I might actually stop supporting them. Her tone softened instantly.
Look, it’s not that we don’t understand, you just have to be realistic. There’s no spare room in the house for you. You can’t expect to stay here forever, right? But I do have a compromise.
I narrowed my eyes. Something about her expression made my stomach twist. I happen to know a wealthy family looking for a live-in assistant.
Good pay, room and board included. You’ve done that kind of work before. Should be an easy transition.
Nicole jumped in with a smirk. Perfect idea actually. You could even help ease our financial load.
Whatever you earn could go toward household expenses. Win-win, right? Susan shrugged and added, you’re not someone who really needs to rest anyway. Going back to work wouldn’t kill you.
Don’t be so quick to say no, just give it a try. If you do well, you might even get to stay long term. My face turned colder by the second.
I already quit. I’m not going back into anyone’s house to work ever again. Susan’s smile vanished.
Her gaze shifted sharp now, calculating. Well, if you’re really done working for others, fine. She paused, her voice suddenly airy but laced with pressure.
There’s a senior residence nearby. Good facilities, decent meals and lodging. You could apply for a work-based stay.
Maybe kitchen help, janitorial services. Something to earn your keep. Nicole rolled her eyes and scoffed.
Now that’s more reasonable. You can’t just live in a hotel and expect us to foot the bill. At least in assisted living you’d be pulling your own weight.
Stop expecting us to carry you. Rage simmered in my chest but I forced myself to stay composed. I turned to Ethan.
You really think it’s acceptable to send your own mother off to scrub floors in a retirement facility just to keep herself fed? His eyes darted away but he tried to keep up his rational act. Mom, be realistic. You’ve always said you wanted to be independent.
Isn’t this the most dignified way to do that? You support yourself and we don’t owe each other anything. And besides, he added pulling out his phone, there’s an open spot available right now. I already called earlier to check.
You could move in as soon as today. Then right in front of me he started dialing the number again. I could hardly believe what I was witnessing.
The child I had poured my entire life into raising was now so eager to shove me out the door like I was nothing more than dead weight. My hands trembled and tears streamed down my face unstoppable. Ethan, I gave everything I had to raise you.
I drained my savings to buy you a home. And now at this moment all you see me as is a burden you can’t wait to get rid of? Is this how you repay your mother? For a brief second guilt flickered in his eyes but it was quickly swallowed by rage. He kicked over my suitcase sending it crashing to the floor.
You think you suffered? That was your choice. If you hadn’t divorced my dad we wouldn’t have ended up broke. I could have grown up rich and you ruined that.
Let me tell you something Margaret. You owe me for the rest of your life. I stood there in stunned silence staring into his bloodshot eyes as a dull unrelenting pain tore through my chest like a blunt knife twisting slowly slicing into everything I had left.
He had no idea. The only reason I divorced his father was for him. If I hadn’t walked away from that marriage his so-called wealthy father never would have claimed him as his son…
In fact he might have been dumped into foster care, treated like a stray dog no one wanted. Every sacrifice I made, every choice, every tear was for him to have a chance at a whole life. But now here he was biting back like a cornered animal blaming me for destroying the very future I tried so hard to protect.
I pressed a hand to my chest trying to steady the storm inside me but the ache only deepened. All those years of devotion, of sacrifice, of love suddenly felt like the cruelest joke life could have played on me. Ethan wasn’t my biological child.
He was adopted. The first time I saw him I was volunteering at the city’s child welfare center. He was barely a year old then.
Frail as a kitten, lips tinged with blue, his tiny body drained of all life. The director told me Ethan had been born with a severe congenital heart defect. His birth parents had abandoned him in a dumpster.
A passerby heard his faint cries and brought him to the orphanage. I still don’t know exactly what drew me to him. Maybe it was the way his eyes, full of fear and longing, clung to mine.
Or maybe it was because I’d lost my own mother when I was very young. Something about watching a child suffer felt unbearable to me. I went home and discussed it with my then husband.
After much thought we decided to adopt him. From that moment on, we crossed the country searching for hospitals and specialists, doing everything we could to save Ethan’s life. But two years later my husband changed.
He said he was tired of raising someone else’s child. He wanted a child of his own. He gave me an ultimatum, either send Ethan back to the orphanage, or leave him and raise the child alone.
I didn’t hesitate. I chose Ethan. Back then his condition was still unstable.
I was terrified that going back to the orphanage would mean delayed treatment. Or worse, the end of his life. So I worked double shifts, sometimes three jobs at once.
At night I’d sit at the kitchen table, eyes burning, making handmade crafts just to scrape together extra income. And somehow through those long, desperate years I kept him afloat. He survived, recovered, and eventually became as healthy as any other boy.
He even made it to college. I never told him the truth about his past. Not because I wanted to lie, but because I didn’t want to burden him.
He was already a sensitive, insecure child. I didn’t want him to carry the weight of knowing he was first thrown away by his birth parents, then rejected by his adoptive father. I wanted him to believe the world could still be kind.
That love, real love, did exist. But never in my worst nightmares did I imagine he’d grow into this. Cold, selfish, ungrateful.
As furious as I am now, there’s also a flicker of relief. Thank God I never mentioned the trust fund. If they knew that the eight million dollars had already been legally transferred to me, I can only imagine how much uglier this would have become.
I looked at Ethan, my gaze icy and unflinching. If this is how heartless you are, then so be it. From this moment on we’re done.
You and I have nothing to do with each other anymore. I reached down, lifted my suitcase, and turned to leave. But Susan suddenly grabbed my arm.
What are you saying? Ethan is your son. You’re supposed to be responsible for his future. You can’t just pack up and walk away like this.
Nicole stepped in, echoing her mother’s outrage. Yeah, what kind of mother does that? You raised him and now you want to wash your hands of it? That’s unbelievably irresponsible. I let out a cold laugh.
You’re a college professor, an educated woman, and this is the argument you’re making? Legally, a parent is only obligated to care for a child until they turn 18. Me? I’ve supported Ethan all the way into his 30s. What more does he expect? Ethan’s face twisted, his voice rising in fury.
That’s not parenting. That’s you making bad choices and trying to pay off your guilt. Every miserable thing in my life is because of you.
You owe me for life. Then he shouted, voice dripping with venom. Did you ask for my permission when you decided to bring me into this world? I almost laughed out loud at the sheer madness of it.
He sounded completely deranged. I stared at him like he was a stranger, someone I no longer recognized. I must have been blind to have raised someone like you.
And if you’ve got such deep, twisted philosophical questions, maybe you should ask your birth mother, the one who left you in a dumpster. I didn’t know if he even processed what I’d just said. He froze for a beat, confused, but the fury still clung to his face.
It didn’t matter. Whether he understood or not no longer concerned me. I shook off Susan’s grip and walked out the door without looking back.
Almost immediately, I heard angry shouts behind me. You’re disowning your own son? You’re not even human. Don’t get too proud, Margaret.
When you’re old, sick, and no one wants to take care of you, let’s see how far that independence gets you. No one’s going to hire a woman your age. When you hit rock bottom, don’t come crawling back to us.
I paused, turned around slowly, and looked at them with cool detachment. You should be more worried about yourselves, I said calmly. Don’t forget, the house you’re living in, that house you treat like your birthright, was bought with every penny I scraped together over the years.
If I ever decide to take it back, don’t be so sure you’ll still have a place to live. Nicole stormed to the doorway, pointing a finger at my face, seething with rage. Don’t you dare touch this house.
It’s registered in my and Ethan’s names. It’s legally ours. You have no claim.
The more she shouted, the steadier I felt. Fine, I said my voice unwavering. Then hear this, I don’t care if I have to spend the price of two houses.
I will not let this house stay in the hands of a bunch of ungrateful leeches. Nicole’s eyes widened in disbelief. Then she burst out laughing, her voice mocking.
You’ve lost your mind. Two houses. You probably don’t even have a thousand bucks to your name.
This house is ours. It’s our marital property. You’re just some washed up maid trying to bite off more than you can chew.
Get lost. People like you deserve to rot on the streets. With that, she slammed the door in my face.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t argue. I didn’t even flinch.
I just turned toward the elevator, pulled out my phone, and started browsing listings for luxury homes in the city’s top neighborhoods. A bitter smirk played at my lips. If I didn’t move into the best house in town, I’d be doing a disservice to the eight million dollars sitting comfortably in my trust fund.
That night, I checked into the most exclusive five-star hotel downtown. Then I contacted Catherine’s private attorney and instructed him to initiate the legal proceedings to reclaim everything that was rightfully mine. In the days that followed, I lived in that hotel while diving deep into the city’s luxury real estate market, researching properties, reviewing listings, and scheduling viewings.
A week later, I had an appointment to tour a highly sought-after gated villa community. It was the most prestigious development in town. What I didn’t expect was the sales agent assigned to show me the property.
It was none other than Susan’s niece, Chloe. The luxury real estate showroom was bustling with people. Despite the starting price of these villas being well over a million dollars, the project’s exclusivity had drawn a steady stream of prospective buyers.
I had just stepped into the grand lobby when a young woman with long hair and a fresh, eager smile approached me. Good afternoon, ma’am. Would you like me to walk you through the project details? Yes, please.
Could you start by showing me the model homes? I followed her toward the display area, but we hadn’t made it more than a few steps when a sharp voice rang out across the room. Who’s handling client screening today? Do we just let anyone walk in now? I looked up. There she was.
Chloe. Susan’s niece. Nicole’s cousin.
We’d only met a few times, but she had left a lasting impression. Classic social climber attitude. The kind who drips arrogance in every word and move, constantly flaunting how she only dealt with high-society clients.
Before I could react, she was already striding over, heels clicking confidently, eyes full of disdain. Margaret? What are you doing here? I glanced at her coolly and kept walking. I’m here to view a property…
Is there a problem? She immediately stepped in front of me, blocking my path with a sneer. A housekeeper? You think you can afford this place? Don’t tell me you’re just here for the coffee. I’ve seen plenty like you, pretending to be buyers just looking to snag some free snacks.
People nearby began glancing over, whispering, their expressions carrying that uncomfortable mix of judgment and curiosity. Some even nodding slightly as if to say she’s not wrong. The young assistant beside me spoke gently, trying to diffuse the situation.
Chloe, I’m not busy right now. I can show this lady around. But Chloe shoved her aside without hesitation, eyes burning with contempt.
And who do you think you are, lecturing me on how to do my job? The girl shrank back, intimidated. Then Chloe turned and waved over two security guards. You two, escort this visitor out of here.
Now. The showroom fell silent. All eyes were on us.
I raised my hand calmly, stopping the guards before they could approach. I came here to view a property. On what grounds are you kicking me out? Where’s your manager? I’d like to speak with someone in charge.
I turned toward the crowd. You’re all here to look at properties too. Why don’t you tell me have I done anything inappropriate? The guards hesitated.
I wasn’t backing down and they clearly didn’t want to get involved in something messy. Chloe stood with her arms crossed, scoffing loudly. Go ahead.
Make a scene. Let’s see how far you take this performance. Just then, a young man in a crisp white shirt approached quickly, wearing a polished professional smile.
Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Alex, the sales manager for this project. Is there an issue I can assist with? Before I could speak, Chloe jumped in.
Alex, she’s just here for the freebies. I was about to have security remove her. Alex frowned slightly but kept his tone courteous.
Ma’am, would you mind showing us some form of financial verification? As you know, this is an invitation-only showcase and we do require proof of purchasing ability. Without hesitation I pulled out a folder. They already verified my documents at the entrance.
Chloe snatched the folder out of my hand and flipped it open dramatically. Five million dollars? Are you kidding me? She shouted loud enough for half the showroom to hear. She’s a housekeeper.
There’s no way she has that kind of money. I know her background better than anyone here, she added smugly. This has to be fake.
We can’t let someone like her play us. Alex stood there, frowning deeply, clearly caught in the middle. I didn’t bother arguing.
Instead I took out my phone, opened my banking app and held it up for them to see. The young assistant leaned in, counting softly under her breath. Ten hundred thousand, oh my god.
Over eight million. Gasps rippled through the crowd. People’s eyes widened, no longer judging now stunned curious even slightly in awe.
Someone near me whispered, damn, she’s got serious money. Chloe’s face drained of color, cycling rapidly from red to pale green to ghost white. She looked like she wanted to vanish into the floor.
But Chloe still wouldn’t give up. She kept pushing her voice sharp and stubborn. Alex, that banking app on her phone has to be fake.
There’s no way she has that kind of money. Alex’s face darkened, his brow furrowing deeply. Chloe, that’s enough.
Then he turned to me with a composed, respectful tone. Ma’am, I truly apologize. This has clearly been a mistake on our part and we’ll handle it appropriately.
I’ll assign our most experienced client manager to assist you right away. I waved a hand lightly, offering a calm smile, then turned to the young woman who’d greeted me earlier. No need.
She’s perfectly fine. Very professional. I want her to show me the property.
Alex looked slightly uneasy. Actually, she just started, still in training, technically. I was only worried she might not have enough experience.
But I like her, I said firmly, leaving no room for discussion. I’m buying the house today and I want to do it through her. Alex nodded immediately, flustered but eager.
Of course. Absolutely. Monica, make sure you take excellent care of our distinguished guest.
Chloe stood off to the side, her face stiff, her lips twitching with suppressed frustration. She watched me walk away, seething, then muttered under her breath. Just a glorified errand made pretending she’s somebody.
I ignored her completely and pointed to the scale model at the center of the showroom. I want to see this one, I told Monica. The moment I laid eyes on that villa, I knew.
Soaring ceilings in the living room, a spacious backyard garden, a sunroom spanning over two hundred square feet. Most importantly, it was fully furnished and move-in ready. I’ll take this one, I said without hesitation.
Let’s get the paperwork started. Monica’s eyes lit up with excitement. Ma’am, are you sure you don’t want to tour a few more options? I’m free, I’d be happy to show you others.
No need, I replied. This one is more than enough. She could barely contain her joy.
Ma’am, this will be the first sale I’ve ever closed. You’re my lucky charm. We headed to the signing area, and as I reviewed the paperwork, a low murmur started behind me.
Damn, she just signed without a second thought. A hundred fifty grand. Didn’t even blink.
Money talks, huh? That’s what real wealth looks like. Don’t be fooled, someone muttered. Didn’t Chloe say she’s just a housekeeper? Probably flashing around her employer’s money.
These days, even servants know how to put on a show. Bet she’s just parading around with someone else’s credit. Seriously, what kind of employer would trust a maid with that kind of cash? Millions.
Then Chloe’s voice cut through the whispers, laced with that gossipy venom she wore so well. Oh, you have no idea. She’s not your average housekeeper.
No? Then what is she? She’s one of those live-in assistants for wealthy old men. You know, not just dusting and mopping if you catch my drift. No way.
At her age? That’s just shameless. Ugh, some people will sell anything for money. If her family knew, wouldn’t they be humiliated? I set down the contract and turned toward Monica.
Monica, I said with a steady smile. Could you please get Alex for me again? I’d like to purchase another property. The room went completely silent.
It was as if the air itself froze. Monica’s eyes widened, her voice trembling with disbelief. Ma’am, you’re sure? You want another one? That’s right, I said calmly.
One to live in. One as an investment. Then I smiled a little wider.
Hello. I do have a small favor I’d like Alex to help me with. Alex returned swiftly, his smile brighter than before, practically glowing with enthusiasm.
Hello again, ma’am. Please, let me know what I can do for you. I’ve confirmed the purchase of the first property, I said.
I’m ready to sign the contract. And I’d like to add a second unit as well. But, I paused, my tone turning cold.
I expect your team to address the inappropriate behavior of certain staff members. Alex’s smile faded. His gaze swept across the room and quickly landed on Chloe.
Chloe, he said sharply, are you causing trouble again? Apologize to the client. Now. Chloe lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to back down.
Why should I apologize? I only told the truth. She used to be a housekeeper. One of those live-in types who caters only to rich old men.
And don’t look at me like that, her son said it himself. I slowly lifted my head, eyes narrowing as I stared directly at her. You’re saying my son told you that? Then let me tell you something in return.
He also once said that your little portfolio of clothes deals didn’t come from your so-called skills, but from the nights you spent in bed with your clients. Is that true? Chloe’s face drained of color. Her lips trembled.
You’re lying. That’s slander. Oh, didn’t you just slander me a few minutes ago? Now you suddenly understand what defamation means.
I turned to Alex who immediately picked up on the cue. His expression turned grim. Chloe, that’s enough.
Security, escort her out of the building. And as of today, you’re terminated. Chloe panicked.
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over. Alex, I wasn’t lying. She really used to be a cleaner.
But Alex’s tone remained firm. You’ve violated company conduct policies in a very serious way. Your employment is terminated, effective immediately.
I raised my hand to stop the security guards from moving. Hold on, I said calmly. She’s not going anywhere just yet.
She publicly defamed me and I’m not letting this slide. Right then and there, I took out my phone and dialed. Hello, yes.
This is the police department. I’d like to file a report for defamation and public harassment. Ten minutes later, two officers arrived at the showroom.
After hearing my account and reviewing the incident, they issued Chloe a formal warning and made it very clear. If she didn’t offer a public apology, I had every right to press legal charges. Cornered and shaking with rage, Chloe finally mumbled through clenched teeth.
I’m sorry. She shot me and Monica one last hateful glance before storming off, her eyes burning with envy, especially when she saw Monica preparing to close the second sale. The same Monica she’d looked down on just an hour ago, now the star closer of the day.
By the end of it, I signed contracts for both properties paid in full without so much as a pause. Monica stood by my side, eyes shimmering with emotion. She could barely get the words out.
Ma’am, I can’t thank you enough. I’ve been working here three months without a single sale and today, two units back to back. You’re honestly my miracle.
To show her gratitude, she insisted on personally arranging deep cleaning and move-in prep for me. I gladly accepted. For the first time in years, I felt truly light, as if all the humiliation, resentment, and bitterness had been swept away like the dust outside my new villa’s doors…
That evening, just as I returned to my hotel, my phone rang. So what the hell did you do to ruin Chloe’s job? Her whole family is coming after us now, demanding answers. How do you plan to fix this? I answered breezily.
Let them come. That’s your problem now. Didn’t I already tell you? We’re done.
I owe you nothing. You stirred up trouble and now expect us to deal with the fallout? That’s not right. That made my blood boil.
Trouble? Are you kidding me? Chloe defamed me in public. She brought it on herself. The police were there.
You think they just showed up for fun? If this turns into a bigger mess, don’t think you’ll walk away clean either. Ethan went quiet for a beat. When he spoke again, his tone had softened noticeably.
Alright, alright. Let’s just move on. By the way, there was that hesitant tone that calculated shift in interest.
So, mom who’s your new employer really? They must be seriously loaded and they seem to be treating you pretty well too, huh? I laughed silently to myself. There it was again, the scent of money and he was sniffing around like a bloodhound. It doesn’t matter who they are.
It has nothing to do with you, Ethan. Let me say it one more time, we’re done. For good.
And with that, I ended the call and blocked every single number from him, Nicole and their entire family. But what I didn’t expect was that just a few days after moving into my new home, I ran into someone I hadn’t planned on seeing again, Susan. That afternoon, I was at a high-end piano showroom downtown, browsing options for a grand piano.
I had just settled onto the bench, ready to test out the keys, when the front doors swung open and a flurry of footsteps echoed through the space. In walked Susan, surrounded by her ever-present circle of socialite friends, their voices loud and shrill with self-importance. What kind of store is this? Susan scoffed.
Letting just anyone sit down and bang on a piano? How unprofessional. Her eyes landed on me and the sarcasm practically dripped from her smile. Margaret, did you even wash your hands before touching that instrument? Weren’t you in healthcare work all these years? God knows what kind of germs you’ve got crawling all over your fingers.
Who would have thought such an expensive piano could be so casually contaminated? Her little clique chuckled and whispered among themselves, eyeing me with barely disguised contempt. So that’s the housekeeper-in-law, you were talking about? One of them asked, not even bothering to lower her voice. Tisdy.
Can’t afford to buy one so she comes here just to pretend? How embarrassing. Another woman, her hair piled into a dramatic bun and oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, gave me a disdainful once-over. Ugh.
Nothing more irritating than someone trying to act classy while carrying knock-off handbags. The two sales associates at the showroom exchanged a subtle glance, clearly uncomfortable. One of them approached me and offered a warm, professional smile.
Please, feel free to continue trying the piano, ma’am. That’s exactly what they’re here for. No purchase required.
I nodded politely then turned back to the sheet music and prepared to play. Trying to ease the growing tension in the room, the other sales rep approached Susan and her group. Ladies welcome.
Is there a particular model you’d like to see? I’d be happy to walk you through our selection. Susan shot me a glance full of frost then replied sharply. We were going to take a look but now I’m not so sure.
Clearly, this store doesn’t care about its instruments or its clients. I gave the store associate a calm smile and said clearly, I’ll need a bit more time to try a few. I fully intend to make a purchase today.
The woman with the bun scoffed and dropped into a nearby sofa, arms crossed. Sure you do. I’ll just sit right here and watch how you talk your way out of this.
Can’t wait to see how you slither off without buying anything. Susan tugged her friend’s arm. Come on, let’s go somewhere else.
Just being near people like this puts me in a bad mood. But I knew better. Susan had already heard from Chloe that I’d bought two villas.
She was clearly unsure whether to believe it and afraid I might prove her wrong again. But her friend wasn’t so easily swayed. I’m staying right here, the bun-haired woman said with a smirk.
I won’t sleep tonight if I don’t see this woman fall flat on her face. Her words seemed to rally the rest of the group. They all stayed waiting for what they assumed would be an entertaining disaster.
I chose one of my favorite pieces and let my fingers fall gently on the keys. The notes floated into the room, soft and steady, the melody of moonlight sonata flowing through the air. The bun-haired woman twisted her mouth in mockery and snorted.
What even is that? Sounds like noise. Who taught her to play? She thinks she belongs in a piano store with that mess? Give me a break. But before I could respond the sales associate by my side started clapping, genuine admiration in his eyes.
Man, that was beautiful. Honestly, that’s one of the most moving renditions of moonlight sonata I’ve heard in a long time. The bun-haired woman rolled her eyes so hard she nearly tipped over.
Oh, please. If she was that talented, she wouldn’t be stuck in whatever dead-end life she’s living now. Your flattery’s a little too obvious, sweetheart.
Just then a few young people stepped into the showroom. They didn’t say a word, simply stood behind me, quietly listening. The moment I lifted my fingers off the keys, a round of spontaneous applause erupted from behind.
Wow, that was incredible. I’ve studied piano for many years, and I still can’t bring out that level of emotion in moonlight sonata. Seriously, you captured the whole hazy dreamlike mood so effortlessly.
You’re amazing. Susan stood nearby, her brow tightening, eyes narrowing in visible confusion. She couldn’t seem to wrap her head around it.
How could someone she’d always looked down on play with such grace, such skill? Truth was, I owed this moment of peace, of music to my late employer. She came from a prestigious family, the most elegant, sincere woman I’ve ever met. She never once looked down on me.
In fact, she treated me more like a younger sister than an employee. Whenever she had free time, she invited me to join her in learning music, painting, literature, and I never brushed it off. I studied with dedication, deeply grateful for her generosity and patience.
Over the years, she didn’t just change my lifestyle. He transformed my entire spirit. I continued playing, letting the keys carry my thoughts, while the bun-haired woman’s face soured under the growing stream of praise.
She lowered her head, clearly unsettled. Then, in one last desperate attempt to save face, she snapped her head up. So what if you can play one song? Big deal.
If you’re really that impressive, pay for the piano right now. I had already made my choice. Calmly, I handed my card to the associate.
Thank you, ma’am, he said cheerfully. That’ll be $15,000. I entered my PIN.
Transaction approved. Ma’am, may I have your name to finalize the invoice? He asked. Of course, I said and wrote it down.
Margaret Turner. The bun-haired woman blanched. Her head jerked toward Susan in disbelief.
You said she worked for someone else, that the villas she bought weren’t even hers. Susan’s face shifted. She walked over, her expression caught between disbelief and something far more tangled.
Y-you bought this piano yourself? And those two villas? Those were yours, too. I smiled. The invoices and contracts have my name on them.
If they’re not mine, then whose would they be yours? Her face twisted instantly, a storm of shock, envy, suspicion, and bitter regret flickering across it. Margaret, you were just a housekeeper. Where did all that money come from? Every dollar I spend was earned legally and rightfully.
My voice was sharp cold. Susan scoffed. Oh, please.
You must have done something shady to get it. The bun-haired woman chimed in immediately. Yeah, maybe she’s a scammer.
That’s how people make fast money these days. No sooner had those words left her mouth than another woman, who’d been quiet all this time, suddenly snapped. What? Scammer? Don’t even joke about that.
She fumbled for her phone, her hands shaking. Hello, 911? I need the police. There’s a con artist here.
Before anyone could react, she hung up and stormed toward me, trying to grab my clothes in a fit of rage. The store staff rushed to hold her back. She was crying, shouting, completely hysterical.
And finally, I understood the reason behind her outburst. She’d been swindled out of over $100,000 six months ago. She’d never gotten it back, and the pain still festered so deeply inside her that the mere mention of scam shattered her control.
Her fury wasn’t aimed at me. It was aimed at a shadow from her past. The police arrived quickly.
And to my surprise, it was the same two officers I had met the day I purchased the villas. One of them raised his brows in recognition, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Oh, it’s you again, ma’am? I nodded politely…
But before I could speak, the curly-haired woman jumped up and shouted. She’s a scammer, officer. Arrest her right now.
The officer’s smile faded. He turned serious. Ma’am, do you have any proof of this accusation? Proof, she snapped.
Of course not. I’m just providing a tip. You should investigate her yourselves.
I mean, come on, how could a housemaid afford villas and grand pianos? Does that sound normal to you? The officer sighed, spreading his hands. Maybe she won the lottery. It happens.
Susan immediately jumped in, her tone sharp. Her? Winning the lottery? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s never had a lucky day in her life.
Grew up without parents, failed marriage, low-class jobs. People like her don’t get lucky, they get desperate. She has no education, no career path.
What else could she have done besides some shady business to get that kind of money? The officer’s expression hardened. Ma’am, I advise you to watch your words. Accusations without evidence fall under defamation and personal attacks.
We can open a case if needed. Susan’s face paled. She clammed up instantly.
A swirl of emotions stirred inside me, frustration, pain, anger. But mostly clarity. Life hadn’t been easy.
I’d grown up alone. After the divorce, I bent over backwards to support a son who never appreciated a thing I did. And now, the very people who’d once enjoyed my sacrifices were using my lowest points as ammunition to attack me.
If I had a nemesis in life, it was Susan, her daughter Nicole. And Ethan. They weren’t just ungrateful.
They were the real curses in my story. But now, I finally saw them for who they truly were. I pulled out my phone, opened my banking app, and without a word, turned the screen towards Susan, holding it up so she, and everyone else, could see.
You don’t want to see me happy? Tough luck. Looks like heaven had other plans. See this? Over 8 million.
All legal. All mine. No dirty secrets, no tricks.
Just blessings you’ll never understand. If that makes you sick, well, I hope it ruins your appetite. You want to accuse me of sleeping my way to the top? Go ahead.
Sue me. I’ll be waiting. Susan’s water cup slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor with a loud clang.
I could almost hear the crack of her pride shattering. 8 million. How the hell do you have that kind of money? Her voice shook, panic breaking through her disbelief.
Then her expression twisted, almost like something had just clicked. Oh, now I get it. That’s why you cut ties with your son.
You got rich and dumped him like trash. How heartless, Margaret. You’re unbelievable.
I turned to her, my tone sharp, unwavering. Don’t twist the story, Susan. I was ready to leave every cent to your daughter and my son.
That was my plan. But then you too decided I was a burden the minute I quit my job. You pushed me out of the house like garbage.
You think I forgot? That house you’re living in? Every dollar that bought it came from me. And not only did you kick me out, you wanted me to scrub floors at a second-rate nursing home just to keep earning for your family. You even suggested I go work for some old rich man as his live-in servant.
God knows what kind of services you had in mind. Tell me, Susan. Do you even have a shred of decency left in you? I could have given your whole family a life of luxury.
But no. Not a chance. You ruined it yourselves.
I turned to the growing crowd of onlookers. Tell me, doesn’t this pack of ingrates deserve everything they’ve lost? The crowd’s energy shifted. Their eyes, once filled with gossip, now brimmed with judgment, aimed squarely at Susan and her friends.
Susan’s face burned red like a con artist caught mid-scheme. You, you’re lying. We never said you should go work for some old man.
Oh. I said calmly. Should I play the recording for everyone here? Let them hear your exact words.
Her face went pale and for a second I saw real fear in her eyes. That recording is probably edited. I’m not listening to that garbage.
Her voice cracked as she turned away, retreating toward the exit. Margaret, you’re cruel to the core. You’ll get what’s coming to you someday.
And with that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I finally exhaled. It was over for now.
But I knew better than to think it was truly finished. With that much money on the line, people like Susan and Ethan never stay quiet for long. What I didn’t expect was how quickly Ethan would crawl back into the picture.
The very next morning, the concierge delivered a massive bouquet of flowers, claiming someone had left it at the gate for me. I frowned, dragged the flowers inside and sifted through them. Right in the center was a card.
Wishing you a lovely weekend. Love, your son Ethan. I nearly burst out laughing, disgusted to the core.
It was so shameless it was almost comical. Without hesitation I picked up the bouquet and tossed it straight into the kitchen trash can. Then I snapped a photo, crushed petals, bent stems and the crumpled card all in one frame and sent it to the gatehouse.
From now on refuse anything sent by this person. Also, kindly forward him this picture. I didn’t just want him rejected, I wanted him humiliated.
Sure enough I never received another bouquet from him again. But he didn’t give up. He just escalated.
He began waiting outside the gated community every single day. Rain or shine, workday or weekend, he’d be there lurking, desperate. Every time I came or went he’d put on another pitiful act, like some character in a cheap tragedy.
One day he even dropped to his knees on the sidewalk, crying hysterically. Mom, please don’t be angry anymore. Come home, I was wrong.
Mom, no matter what, I’m still your son. How can you be this cold to me? I didn’t even bother looking at him. His theatrics only made my skin crawl.
Eventually I got so sick of the scene that I hired a full-time driver. Every day I sat in the back with the windows up, gliding past the front gate straight into my villa’s garage. No eye contact, no conversation, no chance for him to reach me.
Ethan kept it up for two full weeks. But once it was clear I wasn’t budging he finally gave up. At least I thought he did.
Instead he changed tactics. He went digging through and somehow managed to contact my ex-husband, Richard who was once Ethan’s father too. That’s when things truly began to spiral in a way I hadn’t anticipated…
Ethan wasn’t trying to reconcile anymore. He was trying to control me, press me, break me down completely. It became obvious.
If he couldn’t get what he wanted he’d rather see me destroyed. One afternoon my phone rang. It was Richard.
We hadn’t spoken in over 20 years. I had no idea how he even got my number. I just thought I’d give you a heads up, he said casually.
Ethan came to see me. He cried and begged me to talk you into going back home. I don’t know what happened between you two and frankly I told him that’s not my business.
I just reminded him I’m not his biological father. I even added that whatever’s going on between the two of you has nothing to do with me. I’m an outsider.
But he insisted I was lying, he even showed up at my office making a scene. I had no choice but to take a paternity test to shut him up. I didn’t tell him the full truth though.
I kept my promise from all those years ago. I didn’t reveal his real background. So bottom line is he now knows I’m not his father.
But you, you’re still his one and only mother. I hung up already bracing myself. I knew it was only a matter of time before Ethan came knocking on my door again.
When he did I’d be ready. I’d tell him everything. The truth he was so desperate to avoid.
I’d tell him to go find the mother who abandoned him in a dumpster and stop trying to tear my life apart. But that confrontation never came. Instead Ethan took a darker turn.
A turn I hadn’t anticipated. Roughly a week later I noticed something strange. The way people in the neighborhood looked at me had changed.
Their glances lingered longer, their smiles grew thinner, more forced. I brushed it off at first, until Monica called me one afternoon. Margaret, I just wanted to say I know you’re a good person.
Please don’t let what people are saying upset you. I was confused. What are people saying? That’s when I learned what had really been happening.
I’d become an internet sensation. But not the good kind. Ethan had started live streaming daily on a popular social media platform.
His channel title? How My Mother Abandoned Me. I clicked in and saw the full picture. He hadn’t outright accused me of being a mistress or anything scandalous.
No, he’d gone for something much more insidious. He’d crafted a manipulative sob story, painting himself as a heartbroken, abandoned son, while twisting me into the cold, ruthless, money-hungry villain. In his streams he said things like, My mother never really loved me.
I worked so hard, studied so hard, and she wouldn’t even support me in the smallest ways. The year I got into college, she left for another city to work as a live-in assistant for rich people, leaving me to live alone in a tiny rental apartment. When I got married, she didn’t contribute a single dollar.
Even when my wife got pregnant, she never offered a shred of help. Now that she’s suddenly rich, she’s cut me off completely, like I never existed. I don’t even want money.
I just want her to acknowledge me as her son. But she won’t even say my name. She lives in a mansion now, rides in luxury cars, and enjoys an upper-class life, while I get judged and humiliated on the streets.
The comments section exploded. People split into two camps. Some sympathized with him, others called me heartless.
And of course there were the instigators. A mother like that doesn’t deserve to be called one. She should be ashamed.
He’s so pitiful. I’d do anything to give him the love he never had. His livestream blew up.
His follower count skyrocketed. He even started selling merchandise and products on his channel, riding the wave of pity donations from his so-called supporters. Will be the warmth your mother never gave you.
You deserve better, sweet boy. She doesn’t deserve happiness. And then things turned even uglier.
People began digging into my personal life. My name. My photo.
My address. All of it started circulating in comment sections and reposts. I had officially become the face of a social media villain, the most heartless mother on the internet.
And then that evening my phone rang again. This time it was my lawyer. Margaret, we can proceed with legal action right away, my lawyer said.
We can file for removal of defamatory content, demand a public apology and pursue compensation for damages. I paused for a few seconds then smiled calmly. No rush.
Let him perform a little longer. I planned to take this into my own hands first. That same night I registered my own account on StreamNet and launched my own live channel.
I titled it, So This Is The Mom Who Abandoned Ethan. First, I dropped into Ethan’s stream and sent several thousand dollars in donations, instantly grabbing attention and spiking the live chat feed. Then I sent a message across the screen for everyone to see.
Hi everyone, I’m the heartless mother Ethan’s been talking about. He’s been crying for weeks saying I cut off his financial support. Come over to my channel, I’ll show you the truth…
