Chapter 1

After my daughter lost her job, I started sending her $3,500 out of my $4,000 monthly retirement check to cover her expenses.

I survived on stale toast and instant ramen, too stingy to even buy myself a five-dollar carton of strawberries.

But she turned around, hugged her mother-in-law, Eleanor, and cried tears of gratitude over a measly $2,000 pocket money Eleanor gave her.

"You're the only one who truly cares about me! My own mother doesn't care if I live or die!"

That day, I went to her apartment to drop off the money, only to overhear her complaining to her best friend, Ashley.

"My mom is just acting poor to control me. She hands over money like she's throwing scraps to a beggar. She's nothing like Eleanor! Eleanor is so generous—she just casually handed me two grand!"

Those words felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, freezing all my warmth. I quietly slipped the envelope of cash back into my pocket.

I turned around, went straight to the bank, and withdrew the $150,000 emergency fund I had spent ten years saving for her.

Then, I pulled out a flyer for a luxury senior cruise tour that I’d kept for a year and dialed the number.

"Hi, do you still have spots left for the luxury senior cruise?"

The tour bus engine had just started when my phone began vibrating like crazy.

I took a deep breath and pressed answer. Chloe’s sharp voice immediately blasted through the speaker, nearly splitting my eardrum.

"Mom, where are you? Didn’t we agree you'd bring over the money today? My rent is due tomorrow! Do you want me to sleep on the street?"

I looked at the seat next to me. Susan was on a FaceTime call with her daughter, who was asking softly,

"Mom, are you tired? Make sure to drink plenty of water."

In comparison, Chloe's voice sounded incredibly vicious.

"I’m talking to you! Are you mute? I knew you didn't give a damn about me!"

"I joined a tour group. I wanted to travel and clear my head," I said, my throat so tight it felt like it was blocked by cotton.

"A tour?" She let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Eleanor knew I lost my job and gave me $2,000 right away. She told me not to stress. But look at you! You're living it up with your retirement fund, leaving me to rot! Do you even know how to be a mother? Cancel the tour and bring me the money right now!"

Through the phone, I heard her complaining to her husband, Tyler.

"Look how selfish my mom is! Even Eleanor spoils me, but my own mother only cares about herself. I must have been blind to think she actually loved me!"

I suddenly remembered the scene I witnessed yesterday. She had been lounging on the sofa, playing with a cheap plastic bracelet Eleanor had given her, bragging,

"My mom’s tiny retirement check isn't even enough to cover my snacks. Eleanor is the generous one. She buys me treats all the time and tells me not to pinch pennies. Now that’s real love!"

She had no idea that to scrape together that $3,500 for her, I had eaten stale toast for a month, too stingy to buy a five-dollar carton of strawberries.

My heart felt like it had been shattered by a hammer. Tears splashed onto my phone screen.

Susan handed me a tissue and asked softly,

"Are you okay, sweetie? Did you have a fight with your daughter?"

I shook my head, unable to speak.

I opened Snapchat and saw a post Chloe had uploaded ten minutes ago.

"Some people don’t deserve to be mothers! While her daughter is practically starving, she’s out having fun. Meanwhile, Eleanor treats me like her own daughter. The difference is night and day!"

The post featured a photo of $2,000 in cash and a bag of potato chips, dripping with arrogance.

During a pit stop, I saw some maple cookies in the convenience store. I remembered how, when she was little, she would hug me and say, "Mommy's cookies are the best." My heart softened.

After hesitating, I transferred $2,000 to her with a note: "Spend it wisely." The second the money went through, she replied instantly.

"Only $2,000? You used to give me $3,500! Did you waste the rest on your stupid trip? So cheap! Eleanor said she’s sending me another $3,000 for new clothes. You both are mothers, so why is there such a huge difference? If you loved me even half as much as she does, I wouldn't be so heartbroken!"

Looking at the text, I remembered how I secretly slipped her $100,000 as a wedding gift, how I stayed awake for three days and nights when she gave birth, and how I gave her most of my pension after she lost her job while I starved. All I got in return was resentment and comparisons.

The tour guide was organizing a souvenir shopping trip. I picked up a box of maple cookies. In my memory, she had eaten them, showing her little baby teeth, saying, "Mommy is the best." But now, she complained that my cooking was too greasy, saying, "It's not as light and refreshing as Eleanor's salads." How could she possibly appreciate these "cheap" cookies now?

I laughed mockingly at myself and put them back.

That night, lying in the hotel bed, my phone was terrifyingly quiet. There was no text asking how I was—only cold, demanding messages.

Not long after, my phone vibrated again. It was a message from Chloe.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I was a bit harsh earlier. I bought you a pair of gloves. I'll bring them over next time. It's getting cold, you should wear them."

Looking at the message, my heart softened again.

Maybe she was still a good girl at heart. Maybe she was just stressed.

But I didn’t realize that this brief sweetness was only a prelude to a much deeper betrayal.