Chapter 5 - The Son I Created
There are moments when a mother has to confront a terrible possibility.
Not that her child has changed.
But that she has spent years refusing to see who he became.
Julian had not always been cruel.
At six, he used to bring me dandelions from the backyard.
At eleven, he cried when our dog died.
At fourteen, he sat beside Thomas's hospital bed and promised to become someone his father would be proud of.
Then Thomas died.
And something in Julian began to harden.
I blamed grief.
I blamed adolescence.
I blamed the pressure of growing up without a father.
When he wrecked his first car, I replaced it.
When he was expelled from college for fighting, I hired an attorney.
When his first company failed, I covered the debts.
When his second company collapsed, I funded a third.
I called it love.
But sitting in Daniel's office, I finally understood that I had been removing every consequence from his life.
And consequences were the one thing he desperately needed.
My phone rang again.
This time, I answered.
"Mom!"
Julian sounded breathless.
"Where are you?"
"Somewhere safe."
"What the hell have you done?"
I looked at Daniel.
He nodded for me to continue.
"What do you mean?"
"The lender called!"
"Which lender?"
"Don't play games with me!"
I heard Chloe shouting in the background.
Julian lowered his voice.
"They're asking questions about the property."
"They should."
"Mom, listen. We can fix this."
"Fix what?"
"The paperwork."
I let the silence stretch.
"What paperwork, Julian?"
He hesitated.
"The transfer."
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Not concern about my injuries.
Not remorse.
Not even embarrassment.
The house.
Always the house.
"Julian, who owns that property?"
Another silence.
"Mom, don't start."
"Answer me."
"You gave it to us."
"I allowed you to live there."
"It's our home!"
"That doesn't make it your property."
His breathing grew heavy.
"You can't do this to me."
"Do what?"
"Destroy everything I've built."
I looked at the bruises on my hands.
"Julian, what exactly have you built?"
He didn't answer.
Then Chloe grabbed the phone.
"You bitter old woman!"
Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass.
"You're trying to ruin your own son because you couldn't stand being ignored at his birthday party."
I felt something inside me settle.
"Chloe."
"What?"
"Put Julian back on."
"You're going to regret this."
"No," I said quietly.
"I've spent years regretting what I allowed."
She hung up.
A moment later, Daniel's assistant entered.
"Margaret, there's an urgent call from the bank."
Daniel answered on speaker.
The bank's fraud investigator introduced himself.
Then he explained that an application had been submitted using my personal information.
A request for a multimillion-dollar line of credit.
With my signature.
And an attached physician's letter suggesting I had recently experienced cognitive decline.
I stared at the speakerphone.
The investigator continued.
"The letter is dated three days ago."
I felt my heart hammer.
Three days ago, I had been perfectly healthy.
Three days ago, Julian had invited me to his birthday party.
Three days ago, I had still believed he loved me.
Daniel asked for the physician's name.
The investigator answered.
"Dr. Alan Whitcomb."
May you like
I knew him.
He was Julian's father-in-law.
