“What exactly are you sorry for?” I asked.
Jessica blinked. “For hurting you. For making you feel like we didn’t care.”
“But do you care? Or do you care about my money?”
David’s jaw tightened. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? You’ve called me incompetent, threatened to sue me, and now you’re sitting in my living room expecting what—that I’ll undo my trust because you brought the kids and some cookies?”
“We’re trying to make amends,” Jessica said, her voice hardening slightly. “We’re trying to be family, but you’re making it impossible.”
“I’m making it impossible,” I repeated. “I set a boundary after you explicitly told me you wouldn’t take care of me. I protected my assets after years of unexplained emergencies that drained my savings. And I’m the problem.”
“Lower your voice,” David hissed. “The kids are right there.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have brought them to this conversation.”
Jessica stood abruptly. “Charlie, Mia—why don’t you go play in the backyard? Grandma has a lovely garden.”
The children scampered out, oblivious to the tension.
The moment the door closed, Jessica’s mask dropped.
“Let’s stop pretending,” she said coldly. “You’re being selfish and vindictive. You have more money than you’ll ever need, and you’re hoarding it while your own family struggles.”
“Struggles?” I repeated. “You drive a Mercedes. Your children go to private school. Where exactly is the struggle?”
“That’s none of your business,” David snapped. “But my money is your business?”
“We’re your family,” Jessica said. “After everything we’ve done—what have you done?”
I stood up, matching his energy. “Name one thing you’ve done for me in the past five years that wasn’t motivated by eventual inheritance.”
They couldn’t. The silence was damning.
“This is what’s going to happen,” David said, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re going to call your lawyer. You’re going to dissolve that trust. You’re going to restore our inheritance—and you’re going to do it by the end of the month.”
“Or what?” I asked, my voice steady.
“Or you’ll never see your grandchildren again.”
Jessica delivered the threat calmly, like she was discussing the weather. “We’ll move if we have to. We’ll tell them you didn’t want to see them—that you chose money over family.”
The words hit like a physical blow. My grandchildren. The thought of never seeing Charlie’s gap-toothed smile, never hearing Mia’s off-key singing. But even through the pain, I saw the manipulation for what it was: the ultimate weapon. The children. They’d use them, hurt them, sacrifice their relationships with me—all to get money.
“Get out,” I said quietly. “Mom—get out of my house now. And if you ever use those children as leverage again, I’ll document it. I’ll make sure any judge who sees it understands exactly what kind of parents you are.”
David’s face went purple with rage. “You’re going to regret this. I promise you.”
“The only thing I regret is not seeing who you really were years ago.”
They left, snatching the children from the backyard with barely a goodbye. Charlie’s confused “But Grandma—” was cut off by the car door slamming. I watched them drive away, my whole body shaking.
Had I just lost my grandchildren? Would David really follow through?
The thought made me physically ill. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet, my body rebelling against the stress. But beneath the fear, something else burned: fury. How dare they? How dare they use innocent children as pawns?
I wouldn’t back down. I couldn’t. Because if I did, what message would that send—that I could be manipulated, that threats worked, that they could treat me however they wanted as long as they held my grandchildren hostage?
I called Thomas. “They threatened to cut me off from my grandchildren unless I reverse the trust.”
His response was immediate. “Document everything. Write down exactly what was said. If they follow through, we may need that for custody considerations later.”
Custody. The word made my heart race. But he was right. This was war now, and I needed to fight smart.
The lawyer’s letter arrived three weeks later. Not from Thomas—from David’s attorney, a firm downtown with a reputation for aggressive family litigation.
Mrs. Morrison, our client, David Morrison, has retained our services regarding questions about your mental competency and recent financial decisions made under potential duress or diminished capacity. We respectfully request that you submit to an independent psychiatric evaluation.
I read it calmly, sitting in my kitchen with my morning coffee. So this was how he wanted to play it. Fine.
