Rebecca nodded in approval.
“Perfect. First thing tomorrow morning, you go to the bank and talk to him. In the meantime, tonight you have to act as if you know nothing. If Robert goes to your house like he said he would, you have to feign absolute normality. You cannot let him suspect you discovered his plan because that would give them time to move the money elsewhere or prepare an alibi. Do you think you can do that?”
The question made me hesitate for a moment. Could I really look my son in the face and pretend I didn’t know he had betrayed me in the most vile way possible? Could I smile and converse normally when all I wanted was to scream at him, to ask him how he could have done this to me?
But then I thought of Arthur. I thought of all the years we worked together, of all the sacrifices we made to build a secure future. I thought of the nights I spent awake caring for Robert when he was a child and sick. Of the times I went without things so he could have the best. I thought of all the love I had given him unconditionally throughout his life. And that thought, instead of weakening me, filled me with a strength I didn’t know I possessed.
“Yes,” I told Rebecca with a voice much firmer than I felt inside. “I can do it. I am going to do it. That money represents a lifetime of work and sacrifice. I won’t let them take it without a fight.”
Rebecca smiled proudly and squeezed my hand tightly.
“That’s the Mary I know. The strong woman who built a business from scratch, who raised a son alone after being widowed, who always faces problems head on. Now, I’m going to tell you something else, and I want you to remember it well. Robert stopped being your son the moment he decided to steal from you. You owe no loyalty to someone who betrayed you this way. What you are going to do is not revenge. It is justice. It’s taking back what rightfully belongs to you.”
Her words resonated within me like a hammer striking an anvil. She was right. The Robert I loved, the son I had raised with so much care, would never have been capable of doing something like this. This Robert who had planned to rob me was a stranger, and as such I should treat him.
We spent the next hour elaborating a detailed plan. Rebecca had that wonderful ability to think of every detail, every scenario.
“When you get home,” she instructed me, “act as if nothing happened. If Robert arrives and asks how you are, tell him you’re fine, that you had a quiet day. Do not mention that you went looking for him. Tomorrow morning, as soon as the bank opens, you go and talk to Sebastian. Explain the whole situation. Tell him your son made transfers without your authorization using the power you gave him. That is misappropriation of funds. It’s a crime. The bank has to help you track the money and, if possible, block it or reverse the transfers.”
“And what if it’s too late?” I asked with a lump in my throat. “What if they’ve already moved the money somewhere we can’t recover it?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I don’t think so. Robert said he had just made the transfer, right? Banks have protocols for these kinds of situations, especially when older people are victims of financial abuse. Yes, Mary, that is exactly what your son did to you—financial abuse against an elderly person. It is a serious crime, and the bank is obligated to help you.”
The idea that my own son could go to jail made my stomach turn, but at the same time, I felt a strange satisfaction thinking that he would finally face the consequences of his actions.
“You also need to document everything,” Rebecca continued, taking a notepad out of her purse. “Write down exactly what you heard today with as many details as possible—the date, the time, the exact words they said. That will be important if this goes to court. And one more thing, from now on, record all your conversations with Robert and Sarah. Use your phone. Leave it recording in your purse or your pocket. You need solid proof of what they did.”
The idea of recording my own son seemed surreal, like something out of a spy movie, but I understood it was necessary. If I wanted justice, if I wanted to recover what belonged to me, I needed irrefutable proof.
We stayed in the park until it started to get dark, refining every detail of the plan. Rebecca insisted that I must stay calm at all times, that I couldn’t let Robert see any sign that I knew the truth.
“You are an actress for one night,” she told me with a sad smile. “The performance of your life. Make him believe he still controls the situation, that his plan worked perfectly. Meanwhile, we will be working in silence to turn everything around.”
Finally, when the sky was completely dark, I felt ready to go home. Rebecca followed me in her car to make sure I got there safely, and before saying goodbye, she made me promise to call her as soon as I finished talking to Sebastian the next day.
I entered my house with my heart pounding so hard I feared it could be heard from outside. The lights were on and I recognized Robert’s car parked in front of the entrance. I took three deep breaths as Rebecca had taught me and pushed the door open with a calm I didn’t feel at all.
Robert was sitting in the living room looking at his phone with an expression of absolute tranquility that turned my stomach. When he saw me come in, he looked up and gave me that smile that had so many times brightened my days and that now only caused me nausea.
“Hi, Mom. Where were you? I called you several times, but you didn’t answer.”
I had to use every ounce of self-control I possessed not to throw myself at him and demand an explanation. Instead, I smiled as naturally as possible and put my purse on the dining room table.
“I went to visit Rebecca. You know how she is. When she starts talking, time flies by, and we didn’t even realize the hours.”
The lie left my lips with a surprising ease. Robert nodded without showing the slightest suspicion.
“Oh, that’s good. I’m glad you spend time with your friends. Mom, it’s important that you have a social life.”
His words sounded sweet, concerned, exactly like the loving son I thought I had until just a few hours ago. I wondered how many times in the last few months he had used that same false tone with me without me realizing it.
I sat down in my favorite armchair, the one where I spent afternoons reading or watching the news, and tried to act as normal as possible.
“And what are you doing here at this hour? Shouldn’t you be home with Sarah?”
Robert shrugged with a careless gesture.
“She went out with some friends, and I thought I’d come visit you. We haven’t spent time together in days.”
How ironic, I thought bitterly. He had barely visited me for months, and just today, the day he stole all my money, he decided it was a good time for a family visit. Of course, I now perfectly understood his real intentions. He wanted to be here when I discovered my account was empty. He wanted to see my reaction, pretend surprise and concern, and play the role of the devoted son who would do everything possible to help his poor, victimized mother.
“That’s sweet of you, son,” I managed to say, even though the words burned my throat. “Do you want me to prepare some dinner? I have some chicken in the refrigerator. I can make that stew you liked so much when you were a kid.”
I saw a flash of something in his eyes—perhaps discomfort or maybe guilt. But it disappeared so fast I thought I had imagined it.
“Don’t bother, Mom. I already ate something before I came. But we can have some coffee if you like.”
I got up and walked toward the kitchen, grateful to have a few minutes alone to compose myself.
