Chapter 3 - The Three Thousand Dollars a Month
Frederick spent two days at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital.
His fever was caused by a severe bacterial ear infection and dehydration that had gone untreated for three days while my mother took away Amy’s car and phone access under the guise of “helping her rest.”
The pediatric doctor told me that if we had waited another twelve hours, Frederick could have suffered febrile seizures or permanent hearing damage.
I sat in the hospital armchair for forty-eight hours straight, holding Amy’s hand while our son slept beneath a light blanket with an IV in his tiny arm.
Amy finally told me everything.
For six months, my mother had arrived at our house every single morning at seven o'clock.
She took the three thousand dollars I sent every month and deposited it directly into her private checking account.
She never bought groceries for Amy. Instead, she brought expired canned goods and leftover scraps from her own refrigerator.
She canceled our cleaning service, fired our lawn care provider, and told Amy that if she truly loved Connor, she would keep the house spotless, cook every meal from scratch, and never burden her hardworking husband with “domestic complaints.”
“She told me that if I said anything to you, you would choose her,” Amy wept quietly, resting her head against my shoulder. “She said blood is thicker than water, and that a mother always comes first in a Southern family. She said you only stayed with me out of pity because of the baby.”
My chest ached with a fury so deep it made my hands shake.
“Amy,” I whispered, lifting her chin until she looked directly into my eyes. “You and Frederick are my family. No one else. I built that house for you. I work every day for you. I will never let anyone hurt you again.”
While Frederick recovered, my attorney, Nathan Vance, arrived at the hospital with the preliminary forensic accounting report.
What we found went far beyond the forged deed.
Teresa had not just pocketed the three thousand dollars a month.
She had opened three credit cards using my Social Security number, racking up over forty-five thousand dollars in luxury purchases—designer handbags, cruises with Aunt Betsy, and jewelry.
She had also drained twelve thousand dollars from Frederick’s college savings account by using an old joint savings profile from when I was in college.
“This is grand larceny, identity theft, document forgery, and elder/domestic financial fraud,” Nathan said, adjusting his glasses. “Cousin Mason has already agreed to a full confession in exchange for a reduced charge. He admitted that Teresa promised him ten thousand dollars once she transferred your house deed and took out a home equity loan against your equity.”
I looked at the sleeping baby in the hospital crib.
“Prosecute,” I said without a single second of hesitation.
May you like
Nathan looked up. “Connor, this will mean a state prison sentence for your mother.”
“She tried to leave my sick son without a doctor,” I replied, my voice steady as stone. “She stole his college fund. She enslaved my wife in her own home. She is not my mother. She is a criminal.”
