I’m a hundred grand in debt from that hotel lease. You still want to call me ‘mom‘?”
He hesitated for a split second. “Money or no money, you’re still my mom! I’ll find a job soon, and I’ll help pay it all off!”
I pushed the door open wider. “Fine. Come in.”
If he was really sincere, I’d see soon enough. Or maybe he had another angle–only one way to find out.
Back at the old house, Henry played the role of devoted son perfectly. He handled every chore, cooked, and left at dawn each day to “look for work.” Honestly, he seemed like a different person.
Once, I asked him about Tina. He just said she’d dumped him after the whole wedding fiasco and disappeared.
A couple of quiet weeks went by like that.
Then one night, just as I was about to head to bed, Henry walked in with a glass of milk. “Noticed you haven’t been sleeping well… warm milk might help,” he said, handing it over.
A small, unexpected warmth stirred in me as I took the glass.
The second I glanced at the milk, my smile froze for a split second, but I kept my face neutral.
Without a word, I took a tiny sip, then set it down on the bedside table. “I’ll finish it in a bit and head to sleep. You should get some rest too.”
Henry’s face flickered with something I couldn’t quite read, but he just nodded and left the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, I got up and poured the rest of the milk into the toilet before slipping back into bed.
After years running a restaurant, I could tell when something in food or drink was… off.
And sure enough.
Less than thirty minutes later, the door creaked open again.
Henry crept over and whispered my name. When I didn’t respond, he seemed satisfied and got busy, rummaging through my drawers and cupboards, pocketing anything worth a dime. Finally, he grabbed my phone, used my fingerprint to unlock it, and started tapping away.
No doubt draining whatever was left in my account straight into his own.
