Then yesterday… everything came crashing down.
I pulled into the driveway after work.
And saw them.
Liam stood stiff, fists clenched.
Across from him was a man.
Thin. Ragged. Unsteady.
And furious.
“You OWE me! Do you hear me? YOU OWE ME!”
Liam stayed silent—but when his eyes met mine, panic filled them.
The man leaned closer.
“You don’t want your mother finding out who you really are… do you?”
Liam went pale.
Then the man turned toward me.
And I recognized him.
Derek.
I didn’t think—I reacted.
“What are you doing here? How dare you speak to him like that?”
Derek sneered.
“I know more than you think.”
He waved wrinkled medical papers.
“I’m sick. I need treatment. Your son’s been helping me. I’m his father.”
I turned to Liam.
“Is this true?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “He found me months ago. He said he was dying. He told me you refused to give him money… that you forced him to steal.”
My heart dropped.
“Did he tell you that the money he stole was from my grandmother—for your future? Did he tell you he wanted to spend it on golf clubs?”
Derek snapped:
“I deserved those golf clubs! I was entitled to that money!”
Liam looked between us, confusion turning into horror.
“Mom… I’m sorry. He told me you destroyed our family.”
He had been giving Derek money for months.
Believing it was his duty.
Believing he was helping a dying father.
Derek smirked.
“A son should take care of his father.”
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