Chapter 2
"Mom, tell him about the money."
Maya's voice was barely louder than a whisper.
But those six words changed everything.
I turned toward her.
"What money?"
Maya immediately looked down.
Jasmine's expression sharpened.
"Maya, be quiet."
I stared at my wife.
"No. Let her speak."
Jasmine stood.
"Arthur, this has gone far enough."
I didn't move.
"What money, Maya?"
My stepdaughter twisted her hands together.
"I thought you knew."
"Knew what?"
She looked toward my mother.
Then back at me.
"About Grandma paying to stay here."
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood.
I looked at Evelyn.
Her face had gone pale.
"Mom?"
She lowered her eyes.
I gently squeezed her hand.
"Have you been giving Jasmine money?"
Jasmine interrupted.
"It's not what it sounds like."
I raised my hand.
"I wasn't asking you."
My mother began trembling.
"Arthur, I didn't want to cause trouble."
My chest tightened.
"How much?"
She hesitated.
"Five hundred dollars."
I stared at her.
"Five hundred?"
"Every month."
The words struck me harder than I expected.
My mother lived on a modest retirement income.
She had never been wealthy.
Even after my business became successful, she refused to accept unnecessary gifts.
She preferred a simple life.
She saved coupons.
Reused shopping bags.
And worried about electricity bills even when I offered to pay everything.
Now I discovered that she had been secretly handing my wife five hundred dollars every month.
For the privilege of sleeping in the guest bedroom I had prepared especially for her.
I turned toward Jasmine.
"Explain."
She crossed her arms.
"Your mother offered to contribute."
Evelyn shook her head.
"That's not exactly—"
Jasmine cut her off.
"Evelyn, please."
I stepped forward.
"Don't interrupt her again."
My wife stared at me.
I had never spoken to her that way.
But I had also never seen her behave like this.
I turned back to Mom.
"Tell me what happened."
She took a shaky breath.
"After you left for that business conference in Chicago, Jasmine said the household expenses were increasing."
I remembered that conference.
It had lasted five days.
"She told me it wasn't fair for you to pay for everything," Mom continued.
"Then what?"
"She said five hundred dollars each month would help."
My stomach twisted.
"And the laundry?"
Evelyn's voice became smaller.
"Last month, she said money wasn't enough anymore."
I looked at Jasmine.
She remained silent.
Mom wiped her eyes.
"She told me that if I wanted to stay, I should help with cleaning and washing clothes."
I felt an anger I had never experienced before.
Not explosive.
Not reckless.
Something deeper.
A terrible disappointment.
My wife had taken advantage of a frightened elderly woman who trusted her.
And she had done it while I was working to support the entire household.
"Where's the money?" I asked.
Jasmine looked away.
"What?"
"The money my mother gave you."
"I used it for household expenses."
"Which expenses?"
She frowned.
"Arthur, I don't keep receipts for everything."
I looked at the breakfast table.
Fresh flowers.
Imported fruit.
Expensive coffee.
Then I looked at Maya's designer handbag hanging from a chair.
For months, Jasmine had complained that we needed a larger household budget.
I had increased it twice.
Now I wondered where that money had gone.
"How much did Mom give you in total?"
Evelyn answered quietly.
"Fifteen hundred dollars."
Three months.
Every month since she moved in.
I nodded slowly.
"You're giving it back."
Jasmine laughed.
"You're serious?"
"Every dollar."
She shook her head.
"I cannot believe you're humiliating me over fifteen hundred dollars."
I looked at her.
"This isn't about the amount."
"Then what is it about?"
"Respect."
Maya suddenly stood.
"I'll pay Grandma back."
We all turned toward her.
She looked embarrassed.
"I didn't know Mom was making her pay."
Jasmine snapped, "Sit down."
Maya didn't move.
"Mom, you told me Grandma wanted to help."
"Because she did!"
My mother flinched.
I noticed.
And something became painfully clear.
Evelyn had been afraid to speak because Jasmine had trained everyone in the house to accept her version of events.
I turned to Maya.
"Did you know your grandmother was washing your clothes by hand?"
She swallowed.
"I knew she was doing laundry."
"Did you know she was sitting downstairs in pain?"
"No."
"Did you ever ask why a seventy-year-old woman was cleaning up after you?"
Maya looked down.
"No."
I nodded.
"Then that's something you need to think about."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
My mother immediately reached toward her.
"It's all right, honey."
I shook my head gently.
"No, Mom. It isn't."
Maya began crying.
Jasmine rolled her eyes.
"This is becoming a performance."
I looked at her.
"You have until this evening to arrange somewhere else to stay."
Her face hardened.
"You can't throw me out. I'm your wife."
"Then our lawyers can discuss what happens next."
For the first time, uncertainty appeared in her eyes.
"You'd divorce me?"
"I didn't say that."
She relaxed slightly.
I continued.
"But I am saying you will not stay here today and continue treating my mother this way."
Jasmine grabbed her phone.
"Fine. I'll call my mother."
She stormed upstairs.
Maya stayed behind.
I helped Evelyn into a chair.
Then I brought her a glass of water.
"Mom, why didn't you tell me?"
She stared at her hands.
"Because you were happy."
My throat tightened.
"What?"
"You loved Jasmine so much."
She looked up.
"I didn't want to ruin your marriage."
I knelt beside her.
"Mom, you could never ruin my marriage by telling me the truth."
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Jasmine said you'd get tired of having me here."
I froze.
"She said what?"
My mother covered her mouth.
"She told me that one day you would realize I was becoming a burden."
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
My mother had survived more hardship than most people ever experience.
Yet my wife had somehow convinced her that she was unwanted in her own son's home.
I held her hands carefully.
"Listen to me."
She looked at me.
"You are not a burden."
Her lips trembled.
"You never have been."
I kissed her forehead.
"And you never will be."
She began crying against my shoulder.
I held her until she stopped trembling.
Then I heard footsteps.
Maya was standing in the doorway.
Her face was wet with tears.
"Arthur?"
I looked up.
She swallowed.
"There's something else."
I stood.
"What?"
She hesitated.
"Mom told me not to say anything."
My heart sank.
"About what?"
Maya looked toward the stairs.
Then whispered, "Grandma isn't the only person Mom has been taking money from."
I felt a chill move down my spine.
"Who else?"
May you like
Maya's next words made me realize the woman I had married might be hiding far more than cruelty.
"Your company."
