Chapter 1

When my daughter got married, my husband and I drained our savings for her down payment of 260,000 dollars.

Since then, we've been paying her mortgage 2,600 dollars every month.

That night, Frank had a heart attack. I called 99 times.

No answer.

Finally, on the last call, David answered, his voice full of irritation. "Mom, it's so late. Can't this wait until tomorrow? Have some boundaries."

I said Frank was dying, but he cut me off impatiently. "Then call 911. Stop being so needy."

That was the moment something inside me went cold.

Seven days later, when my husband was discharged, the first thing I did was stop paying their mortgage.

Emily called 99+ times, frantic. I replied only one sentence.

*****

The bank notification popped up on my phone. [-2,600 dollars. Mortgage payment.]

I sighed and put the phone back in my apron pocket.

The kitchen was filled with the rich smell of chicken soup. The broth simmered gently, warm and inviting.

It was the weekend. I had gotten up early to shop for fresh ingredients. My daughter Emily Grant and her husband David Johnson were supposed to come home for dinner.

I wiped my hands and called Emily.

The phone rang a long time before she answered. Background noise. "Mom, what's up?" Emily said.

I smiled, "Emily, the soup's ready. When are you coming?" There was a pause on the other end.

"Mom, we're not coming tonight."

My heart sank, but I forced a smile into my voice. "What's wrong? Didn't we agree on this?"

"David has a work dinner. I have to go with him." Her tone was already impatient.

"Alright, don’t drink too much. Get home early."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Stop nagging," Emily replied. She paused, then added, "Oh. By the way, David and I are planning a trip to Europe next month. We're short about 6,700 dollars. Can you cover it for now?"

It's always money, again.

When they got married, my husband Frank Grant and I emptied our savings 260,000 dollars for her down payment. We've been paying her mortgage 2,600 dollars ever since.

Emily and David both graduated from top universities, have decent jobs, and make good money.

But their money always goes to vacations, luxury goods, and all sorts of pricey hobby classes.

I get 2,000 dollars a month in retirement, and Frank gets a bit more, around 3,000 dollars.

After paying the mortgage and daily bills, almost everything left went to them.

My throat tightened. "Emily, didn't I give you 3,000 dollars for that bag last month?"

"Oh, that's nothing. Say yes or no, Mom," Emily snapped. Her impatience was clear.

I looked at the table full of food I had spent the whole morning preparing. And suddenly, I lost my appetite. "Fine, I'll send you the money tomorrow," I said.

"Great. Gotta go. Busy here." Emily said.

The call was cut off in a rush.

In the living room, Frank was watching TV. He didn't hear much. "Are Emily and David almost here?" he asked with a smile.

I carried the food to the table and forced a smile. "David's company has something urgent, so they're not coming home."

Frank's smile froze. He stared at the table, at the barbecue ribs that Emily loved, and the chicken soup that David had specifically asked for.

After a long moment, he let out a sigh. "Let's eat." Only the two of us, four dishes and a soup. It felt emptier than ever. Neither of us mentioned Emily again.

After dinner, I cleared the table. Frank sat on the couch, one hand pressed to his chest, his face a little pale.

"Are you okay?" I asked, worry tightening my voice.

"I'm fine. Just full. A little tight." he said, waving me off.

I gave him warm water and told him to rest.

Around 11 PM, I woke to the sound of heavy breathing.

Frank was drenched in sweat, his face gray, his hand clutching his chest, his lips turning blue.

"Frank. Frank, what's wrong?" I shouted.

Panic hit me. I grabbed for my phone.

He looked at me, his eyes full of pain and terror. His mouth moved, but no words came out.

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. Then he went limp on the bed.

My mind went blank.