From the moment our son Jason entered the world, my husband and I were convinced he was meant for greatness. He was the kind of kid who made achievement look effortless — straight A’s, debate team wins, piano recitals, science fair ribbons. Teachers adored him, friends admired him, and we… well, we believed in him with our whole hearts.
Maybe too much.
So when he earned a spot at one of the top universities in the state — a place of ivy-covered buildings and prestige — we felt like all our sacrifices had finally paid off. Robert worked extra shifts for years, and I took every weekend job I could. We told ourselves it was worth it. Our son was building a future far bigger than anything we had growing up.
When he drove off to college, I cried as soon as his car disappeared around the corner. Robert wrapped his arm around me and whispered, “He’s going to make us proud, Carol.”
For a while, we thought he did.
At first, Jason called often — long stories about professors, new friends, and late-night study sessions. We sent him money each month for tuition and books… and sometimes extra when he mentioned “unexpected fees.” He sent us PDFs with the university logo on them, tuition statements that looked professional. I never doubted them. He was our boy. Why would he lie?
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