Chapter 7
Early the next morning, I went to my mom's place.
She lived out in Milton, in an old public housing unit, just two bedrooms and a living room.
My dad passed away years ago, so she's been living alone ever since.
I rang the doorbell three times before she finally answered.
The door cracked open, and a pair of cloudy old eyes peeked out at me.
"Who is it?" she called.
When she saw me, she just froze.
"Edward?"
"Mom, it's me," I said.
She unlatched the door chain with a loud clatter.
She looked way older than eight years ago, hair all white, back hunched, bundled up in an old quilted jacket, plastic slippers on her feet.
She scanned me from head to toe, lips quivering.
"You're out?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm out," I replied.
"Did they cut your sentence?"
"Two years off."
She stepped aside to let me in.
The place smelled like old age, mixed with the scent of medicinal ointment.
I looked around. The furniture hadn't changed since eight years ago, and the couch had a slipcover so faded from washing it was almost white.
"Have you eaten?"
"Yeah, I have."
"Sit down."
She went to get some water.
I sat down on the couch and got straight to the point.
"Mom, do you still have that envelope I gave you before I went away?"
She stopped pouring the water.
She kept her back to me, not turning around.
"What envelope are you talking about?"
"The agreement and the USB drive. I handed them to you myself before I went in. I told you to keep them safe."
Silence.
She set the teapot down on the table with a soft thud.
She turned around, avoiding my gaze.
"I...I don't remember."
"Mom."
"I'm old now, I keep losing things."
"Mom," I said, my voice a little firmer.
She finally looked at me.
There was a flicker of avoidance in her eyes.
And a hint of guilt.
My heart sank.
"Where is it?"
"I told you, I can't find it."
"Can't find it, or did you give it to someone?" I pressed.
Her lips moved, but she didn't say a word.
I stood up.
"Richard came and took it, didn't he?"
My mom shrank back.
That told me everything I needed to know.
"When was that?"
"Three or four years ago," she finally muttered, her voice barely audible.
"He came by, brought a bunch of things, said you sent him. While we were talking, he asked about that document, said you told him to pick it up for the company."
I took a deep breath, my nails digging into my palm.
"So you just gave it to him?"
"He said you wanted him to have it! I'm just an old woman, how was I supposed to know!" she protested.
"I told you!" I raised my voice. "I told you not to give that to anyone! Anyone! Have you forgotten?!"
My mom flinched, her eyes turning red.
"Why are you yelling at me? All those years you were locked up, who ever looked after me? Your wife left, your daughter never even came to see me, not even once a year. At least Richard actually showed up..."
She started wiping away tears.
"He sends me 600 dollars every month, comes by for the holidays. I'm just an old woman, all by myself."
600 dollars a month.
He bought out my only bargaining chip.
What a clever play.
Richard, you really are a damn natural at business.
600 dollars a month, 7,200 a year, less than 30,000 over three or four years.
For less than 30,000 dollars, he walked away with an agreement worth 30 million.
And he even managed to shut my mom up.
I stood there in front of my mom, feeling like there was a boulder crushing my chest.