I Saw the Comments, Then Cut Him Off

The smile on my son, Desmond Kinsley’s, face froze for a split second. Then he looked at me with concern. “Mom, did you forget something? I can mail it to you when I get home.”

I shook my head, and his voice grew noticeably more anxious.

“Then why aren’t you going anymore? You’re practically about to board. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of myself and my sisters, just like I always do!”

I said nothing. I simply stared at him.

His eyes darted away. After an awkward chuckle, he asked, “Mom, did you… misunderstand something about me?”

I remained silent, then I lowered my eyes to my phone. My husband, Sebastian Kinsley, had finished putting away the luggage. He stepped in with a smile, trying to smooth things over.

“Come on, honey! We need to board. Desmond has always handled the living expenses, and Wendy’s a good girl. You can put your mind at ease.”

When I did not move, he looked completely baffled.

“You never used to worry about these things. What’s gotten into you today?”

I tightened my grip around my phone, feeling my heart turn cold.

He was right. I never used to worry. Every time I went on a business trip, all I had to do was send my son his allowance on schedule. He always made sure everything at home looked perfectly fine.

My adopted daughter, Wendy Kinsley, was so well-behaved that I never had to worry about her.

Only now was I beginning to remember that every time I came home from a business trip, Wendy looked a little thinner and became a little quieter. I had always assumed she was simply growing up, which was why she was becoming more reserved and more conscious of her appearance. Maybe she was trying to lose weight.

After all, I gave each of them one million dollars a month for living expenses. Surely, she could not have been losing weight from hunger.

However, after seeing those comments today, I realized there might have been something else going on.

While I was away, my daughter might have been abused. Worse, she might have believed I had allowed it.

The thought of it, and the cautious, timid look on my daughter’s face, made my heart ache.

Then there was my biological daughter, Nicole Kinsley, whom I had only just brought home. She had grown up running wild in the countryside, lively and energetic.

She had only been home for a morning when she started following Wendy’s lead and treating Desmond with the utmost respect.

I swallowed my rising fury. I was not about to tear the family apart until I had proof.

“I just got a call about something urgent at the company. I need to go take care of it first.”

The relief on Desmond’s face was obvious.

“Mom, send me the living expenses first. I need to make some arrangements. I’m keeping an eye on Wendy’s and Nicole’s expenses.”

I gave him a flat look. “No rush.”

With that, I got into the car and left. I did not go to the company. Instead, I went straight to investigate a few things.

…

That evening, I returned home early. I had just reached the corner of the second-floor hallway when I stopped.

Desmond was on the phone. His voice was low and urgent. “Plans have changed. She suddenly decided not to go on the business trip. The money never came through!”

“What are you freaking out about?” A woman’s voice came from the other end, sweet and syrupy.

“She’s easy enough to fool. Just sweet-talk her a little more. Besides, your eighteenth birthday is right around the corner. When the time comes, won’t that old woman happily hand everything over to you?”

A cold laugh nearly escaped me.

That voice belonged to Linda Hamilton—the girlfriend my son was always going on about, the one from a supposedly respectable, scholarly family.

He told me her family was spotless, that they were a perfect match, and that he would introduce me to her sooner or later.

Now, it seemed that even he had no idea what kind of woman he had hooked up with.

I quietly slipped back into my bedroom, my fingertips growing colder by the second.

That very night, I called the family's attorney. “Void every inheritance document under my name.”

The attorney was clearly stunned. “Ms. Gray, Desmond is turning 18 this year. Wasn’t it already decided that you’d give him part of your shares at his birthday celebration?”

I cut her off, “Everything we agreed on before is being changed. He gets no shares. He gets no property, and that luxury yacht I ordered for him? Put it back under my name. Every document gets a strict confidentiality clause.”

From this day forward, I would keep every last penny firmly in my own hands.

After hanging up, I lay back on the soft mattress. The barrage of comments from that morning flashed through my mind again.

Fortunately, it was not too late. This time, every cent would have to pass through me first.