Jacob had a point about one thing: Arnold and I were both still in good health. I'd always been mindful about staying fit, so having a second child really wasn't out of the question.

We'd actually considered it ten years ago. Back then, we'd sat Jacob down and seriously asked for his opinion. He was only ten at the time, and he'd said he didn't want a little sister or brother. So we'd scrapped the plan.

We just never expected that six months of college would be enough to turn him into a completely different person.

I picked up my phone. The screen was flooded with messages from Jacob:

"Mom, I know I was wrong. I really don't have any money left. My girlfriend and I can barely afford to eat."

"My girlfriend's family is really messed up. They favor her brother over her and won't give her a cent. I had no choice but to ask you and Dad for money."

"I'm sorry for the way I talked to you and Dad when I asked for money. I got too heated. I'm sorry, Mom."

Reading those last few lines, my heart softened instantly.

I showed the messages to Arnold. "See? Jacob knows he was wrong."

The words had barely left my mouth when a friend request popped up on my screen. The note read: Hi, ma'am. I'm Jacob's girlfriend. I accepted it immediately.

Remembering what Jacob had said about the girl's family situation, I felt a pang of sympathy. I'd escaped that kind of household myself, the kind where daughters were treated as less than sons. It wasn't until I met Arnold that my life finally started turning around.

I was just about to ask the girl if she needed any help when her messages started rolling in, one after another:

"Ma'am, you and your husband are still so young. Why did you quit your jobs and stop working? My parents live out in the country and they still raise chickens and ducks just to help support my brother!"

"You two are perfectly capable of earning money. You should be working hard and saving up a marriage fund for Jacob. How can you justify going on vacations? Spending $20,000 in one trip? That's Jacob's money! What do you two old folks even need to spend money on? $500 a month for living expenses is more than enough. You should be picking up extra work in your spare time. Jacob already promised me: my family wants a $750,000 bride price, plus a house in Manhattan for my brother."

Reading those words was like a bolt of lightning striking my brain.

Now I finally understood why my once sweet, obedient son had turned into this.

I was shaking with rage. Arnold took the phone from my trembling hands, and the moment he read the messages, his face went dark as a thundercloud. He blocked the girl without a word, then fired off a message to Jacob:

"Jacob James, I'm telling you right now: you break up with that girl immediately. If you stay with her, don't blame me when I cut off every last cent of your allowance!"

Jacob called back within seconds.

"Why should I? Candice Henson didn't say anything wrong! Your money is my money anyway! I'll do whatever I want with it! You used to give me everything I asked for. Why is it suddenly a problem when I ask for a little cash?"

"Enough, Jacob! You've gone way too far these past few days! I'm freezing your card right now so you learn who's in charge. You break up with that girl, or don't come crying to me when I take my belt to your hide!"

After hanging up, Arnold was still seething. He blocked Jacob on every platform and app he could find.

I sat there, replaying the last eighteen years of raising Jacob in my head. We'd given him a comfortable life. Maybe not extravagant, but solidly middle-class. When he wanted guitar lessons, we paid for them. When he wanted music classes, we supported him without question. We'd never let him suffer a single hardship. So why? How had we raised such an ungrateful wretch?

Over the next few days, our trip was all but ruined. With everything that ungrateful boy had put us through, neither Arnold nor I had much heart left for sightseeing.

We ended up booking an earlier flight home, planning to sit Jacob down for a serious talk when he came back.

But the moment we stepped off the plane and opened the front door, Arnold and I stood frozen in disbelief.

The house was completely empty. Every piece of furniture, every appliance, gone.

I quickened my pace toward the bedroom, only to find it stripped bare as well.

My mind went blank. After a few seconds, I fumbled for my phone with trembling hands and pulled Jacob's number out of the block list.

The instant I did, his social media feed loaded on my screen.

That girlfriend of his, Candice, was draped in the gold necklaces and jewelry I'd spent years collecting, smirking at the camera like she'd won the lottery.

Jacob had captioned the post: "A good wife lifts her man to greatness. I repay my queen in gold."

I nearly exploded.

Arnold and I went through the house, tallying up everything that was missing. The furniture and appliances were one thing, but what truly made my blood boil was my jewelry collection, worth over fifty thousand dollars. Then there were the signed paintings Arnold had collected over the years, plus the emergency cash we kept at home, well over a hundred thousand.

The security cameras in our building had caught it all. Jacob and Candice, loading everything into trucks and hauling it away to sell.

"Call the police," I said.

In that moment, something inside me died.

But just as Arnold picked up his phone to dial, there was a knock at the door.

I opened it to find two officers standing on our doorstep.

I blinked, confused. Were the police psychic now? We hadn't even filed a report yet, and they were already here.

Seeing me stare at them in bewilderment, one of the officers spoke up.

"Hello. You're Ellie Lawrence, correct?"

"We've received a tip that you may have been embezzling company funds for personal gain. Given your position as an accountant, someone flagged your unusually large bank transactions and savings deposits. We're here to look into it."

I stood there, stunned. My primary job was indeed as a corporate accountant, and everyone knew it. The salary wasn't much. I'd always been meticulous and honest, living on six thousand a month to cover household expenses. The rest of our money came from years of freelance illustration work on my part and Arnold's earnings from his own career.

I pulled up every record I had: my freelance contracts, invoices, bank statements, tax filings. The officers reviewed everything thoroughly and, once they were satisfied there were no irregularities, left.

After they were gone, Arnold's face was dark as a storm cloud, and mine was no better.

Nobody knew about our substantial savings except Jacob. We didn't need to guess who had filed that report.

Our company was a major firm. Two years ago, the finance director had been caught cooking the books, skimming over two million dollars through his position. To make an example of him, the company awarded twenty percent of the recovered amount to the person who'd blown the whistle.

I'd been gossiping about the whole affair with Arnold at the time. Jacob had been sitting right there, playing video games.

The realization hit me like ice water through my veins. This was my son. For a shot at reward money, he had actually reported his own mother.

Thank God I'd always been honest. I had never taken a single cent that wasn't mine.

But my heart was shattered all the same. Was that really what Jacob thought of me? That his own mother was the kind of person who would exploit her position to line her own pockets?

I was still reeling from the pain when my phone rang. Jacob's name lit up the screen. The moment I answered, his smug, taunting voice filled my ear.

"Mom, I gotta say, I'm honestly shocked. All those years handling the books and your record's squeaky clean. What about Dad, though? Is he squeaky clean too?" He let out a laugh. "Here's what I suggest. Bump my monthly allowance up to fifty grand and transfer those savings into my account. Otherwise, I will make your lives a living hell. I'll be on your doorstep every single day, making sure you never have a moment's peace."

"Hurry up! I already promised Candice I'd buy her a BMW! If you don't give me the money, I'll keep filing reports against you. And if it turns out you two actually did do something illegal, you'll end up in prison, and then the money and the house will be mine to do with as I please!"

So that was his game all along. If this was the kind of son he'd become, then I was better off without one.

I gripped my phone until my knuckles ached and let out a cold laugh. "You want a BMW? I think the two of you deserve a prison cell."