It seemed plausible enough, but there was something off about it. Mom was many things, but emotionally spontaneous? Never. She was always calculated, always had a motive. And this sudden change in behavior hinted at something deeper and more implicit than just being out of character.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that this newfound friendship was a façade for something more—a scheme or a play with unwritten rules. My mom NEVER liked Jane or them, which made it all the more suspicious.
But nothing prepared me for the bombshells of the past few months. Turns out, Jane was getting sicker and sicker, and my mom saw this as the perfect opportunity to swoop in and take over Jane’s role in the family.
Jane’s hospital visits became more frequent than her visits home. She didn’t tell me the full extent of her condition until one cold Saturday morning. I was shocked to learn she had irreversible kidney failure.
After a while, she was discharged from the hospital, but my dad had to arrange for hospice care. At that point, Jane only had a few months left. I realized those hospital visits weren’t just routine check-ups.
Amidst this chaos, another unsettling puzzle started forming in my mind. While Jane was getting treatment, I suspected my dad and my biological mom were having an affair.
I tried to shield my younger siblings from these suspicions, but kids pick up on things more than adults realize. Dad was as evasive as ever, insisting it was all a misunderstanding, so confronting him didn’t get me anywhere.
I made the painful decision to talk to Jane about the trust fund she set up for my half-siblings and me. During that conversation, I found out my dad would have complete control over the funds, including ours, if anything happened to her.
I broke down and spilled everything when she asked why I was suddenly so interested in the family’s finances—my suspicions about my parents, Mom’s sudden warmth, everything. I could see it broke both our hearts, especially since her time was running out.
It all spiraled out of control two days later. With a determined look in her eyes, Mom barged into our house and confronted Dad.
“It’s no use! My plan failed! Jonathan, that old hag Jane isn’t leaving you any money! And since you’re not getting paid, neither am I!”
“Laura, what do you mean? Jane left everything to me in her will.”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. Her sister’s in charge of her estate now, and it seems she’s talked to a lawyer recently. The only people getting any of that woman’s money are the kids.”
Mom was livid, and Dad looked utterly bewildered as to why she was so worked up about money that wasn’t even hers. I came clean and admitted I was the one who spilled the beans. “You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes,” I told them bluntly. I’d had enough of them scheming against a woman who did nothing but help and support us.
It was a heated showdown. Dad just stood there, looking defeated, while Mom slapped me across the face. And then Mom dropped an even bigger bombshell: she confessed she never loved Dad. Her love for him was just a facade to be married to him for the money. My brothers and I were left speechless by the family drama unfolding before us.
Since that day, my mom and dad haven’t spoken to me. I can’t even look at her without feeling uncomfortable. It’s all too much—the deceit, the calculated cruelty. As soon as I turn eighteen, I plan to cut ties with them both. People who would conspire against someone