James nodded.
“Exactly. They checked your mailbox regularly, took everything related to the bank, and you never found out. The bank thought it was you who wasn’t responding to their demands.”
“And now?” I asked, feeling panic grow in my chest. “Are they going to take my house?”
“No,” replied James with a small smile. “And here comes the good news. When the bank discovered the fraud, they immediately canceled the foreclosure process. They were also victims. Now they are cooperating fully with the district attorney’s office. And better yet, they are suing Harper and Caleb for the $200,000 plus interest and penalties. That adds up to almost $300,000.”
“Do they have that money?” asked Margaret.
James shook his head.
“No. According to the bank’s investigation, they spent it all in less than six months. Harper completely renovated her condo, bought a new car, took two trips to Europe. Caleb invested in another failed business, and spent the rest on who knows what.”
“So they are never going to pay,” I said, feeling a mix of justice and sadness.
“Probably not,” admitted James. “But the bank is going to seize everything they have. Harper’s condo, her car, everything. Caleb has nothing to seize because he has never had anything. Both will likely end up bankrupt and with criminal records.”
I leaned back in the chair trying to process all this information. My children had not only abandoned me, not only tried to steal from me, but they had put the roof over my head at risk, and all for money they squandered on empty and superficial things.
“There is more,” continued James. “The DA wants you to testify at a formal hearing next week. They are going to formalize the charges and need your full statement.”
“I’ll be there,” I replied without hesitation.
“Elleanor,” said James with a softer tone. “You are still in time to withdraw the charges. I know they are your children. I know this is painful.”
I looked directly at him.
“James, if I withdraw the charges, what will they learn? That they can do whatever they want because in the end, Mom always forgives them. I already spent my whole life teaching them that there are no consequences for their actions. It is time they learned differently.”
Margaret squeezed my hand.
“I am proud of you.”
That night, alone in my house, I checked the locks on all the doors. I called a locksmith and changed all the deadbolts. Caleb would never have access again. I checked my mailbox and indeed found some letters that looked like they had been tampered with. I installed a security camera pointing directly at the mailbox.
I also did something else. I took an old box from the back of my closet. Inside were photographs of when Harper and Caleb were little. Harper in her first party dress, Caleb in his soccer uniform, photos of birthdays, graduations, Christmases that were once happy. I looked at those photos for hours. I tried to remember at what moment those smiling children became the greedy adults who now faced criminal charges. I tried to find the exact moment everything broke. Maybe it was when Bob died and I had to work so much that I was never really present. Maybe it was when I gave them everything they asked for without teaching them the value of effort. Maybe it was when I allowed them to disrespect me the first time and said nothing. Or maybe it wasn’t my fault at all. Maybe that was just who they were.
I put the photos back in the box. I didn’t throw them away, because I couldn’t. But I didn’t take them out again either.
The next day, Harper called my phone. I let it ring until it went to voicemail. She left a message. Her voice sounded different, smaller, more scared.
“Mom, it’s me. Please pick up. I need to talk to you. This got out of control. We didn’t mean for it to go this far. Please, Mom, we can fix this. We are family.”
I deleted the message without a second thought.
Caleb also tried to contact me. He sent text messages.
“Mom, please. We made mistakes. But we are your children. You can’t do this. They are going to put us in jail.”
I didn’t reply.
That night, I received a call from an unknown number. I answered out of curiosity.
“Mrs. Vance?” It was a young woman’s voice I didn’t recognize.
“Yes, who is this?”
“My name is Jessica. I am Caleb’s wife. I need to speak with you.”
I didn’t know Caleb had gotten married. He had never told me.
“Please go on,” I said cautiously.
“Mrs. Vance, I know Caleb did terrible things. I didn’t know anything about this until the legal papers arrived. But I have a six-month-old baby—your granddaughter. And if Caleb goes to prison, I don’t know how I am going to support her alone.”
I felt a dagger in my chest. A granddaughter. I had a six-month-old granddaughter, and no one had told me.
“Why are you calling me?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“Because I need you to withdraw the charges. Please, not for Caleb, but for your granddaughter. She is innocent in all this.”
I closed my eyes.
“Jessica, I am very sorry for your situation. I am sorry that my son has put you in this position. But what he did has consequences. I cannot protect him from those consequences.”
“But your granddaughter—my daughter—”
I interrupted her with a firm voice.
“Your daughter has a mother who seems to care about her. That is more than many children have. And maybe, just maybe, this teaches her father to be a better man. But I am not going to withdraw the charges.”
She started crying.
“Please, Mrs. Vance, please—”
I hung up the phone. And then I allowed myself to cry for the first time in this whole process. I cried for the granddaughter I didn’t know. I cried for the desperate mother. I cried for the children I had lost long before this legal battle. But I didn’t change my mind.
Margaret arrived an hour later. I had sent her a text; she was on her way. We sat in my living room with hot tea.
“Did you hear?” I asked.
“That you have a granddaughter,” she said. “Yes. Caleb got married and had a baby and didn’t even bother to tell you.”
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