My Daughter-in-Law Broke My Arm Because I Wouldn’t Give My Son the $4 Million Lottery Jackpot I Won.

The Brutal Reminder of a Son’s Betrayal

My left arm rested on the armrest, still aching after three days. The white cast was a constant reminder of the brutality of Megan, my daughter-in-law, from when I told her I had no intention of handing over the $4 million I had won in the lottery.

I was sitting in my favorite armchair, the same one where I had watched Theo grow up for so many years, when I heard their voices approaching from the yard.

“Beatrice, open the door!” Theo shouted, banging hard.

His knuckles echoed against the wood like hammer blows. Megan was with him, her heels clicking against the tiles of my entryway.

They were coming for the second time this week. The first had been when Megan fractured my arm for refusing to sign the papers they had brought from the bank.

Now they were back, and I knew it wasn’t a family visit. I rose from the armchair with difficulty, trying to protect my injured arm.

At my 69 years, every movement cost me twice as much after the beating. I shuffled towards the door, my heart beating like a drum in my chest.

“Son, what do you want now?” I asked through the closed door.

I didn’t want to open it for them, not after what had happened.

“Open up already, you stubborn old woman!” Megan roared from the other side.

“We’ve come to talk to you seriously. We’re not leaving until you sign those papers.” Her voice had that acidity that made my blood run cold.

She was the same woman I had met five years ago when Theo introduced her to me as his girlfriend. Back then, she had seemed sweet, polite.

She had called me Momma Beatrice with such affection that I thought I would finally have a daughter. I opened the door with my right hand, keeping my left arm pressed against my body.

Theo entered without waiting for an invitation, pushing me aside. Megan followed him, her eyes gleaming with that greed I already knew so well.

They settled in my living room as if it were their own. Theo was sinking into my new sofa, the one I had bought with my first retirement check.

“Mom, we’ve come to resolve this once and for all,” Theo said without looking me in the eye.

He was 32 years old, but in that moment, he seemed like a stranger. His voice sounded cold, calculating.

“Megan is five months pregnant. We need that money to buy the big house, to start the business, to secure your grandchild’s future.” He said it like it was an order, not a request.

“Theo, I already explained to you that I can help you, but I’m not going to hand over all the money,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

“It’s $4 million. I also have the right to live with dignity in my final years.” I stood by the door, ready to run if necessary.

Fear ran through my veins like poison. Megan shot up from the sofa like a coiled spring.

“Dignity? What dignity? You’ve already lived, Beatrice!” Megan screamed in my face.

“You’ve had your chance to be happy, to buy things, to travel. Now it’s our turn!” She approached me with her fists clenched.

“That money doesn’t belong to you. An old woman like you doesn’t know what to do with so much money. You’re just going to waste it on medicine and stupid things.” Megan continued.

“Megan, please calm down,” I tried to reason with her.

“You can have half. $2 million is more than enough to start a new life.” But my words only enraged her more.

She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, her pregnant belly jutting out like a threat.

“I don’t want half. I want all of it!” She screamed in my face.

Her breath smelled of cigarettes and hatred.

“My son is going to grow up in a mansion. He’s going to go to the best schools, and you’re not going to screw up our plans with your miserable old lady selfishness!” She pushed me so hard that I stumbled and fell back into the armchair.

The fractured arm moved, and I screamed in pain.

“Megan, that’s enough!” I exclaimed through tears.

But Theo didn’t move from the sofa. He didn’t defend me; he just looked at me with contempt as if I were the problem.

“Theo, son, please control your wife,” I begged him.

He was my blood, my only son, the boy I had raised alone after his father died when he was eight.

“No, Mom, Megan is right,” Theo said, getting up slowly.

“You don’t understand the opportunity you have to do something good for your family.” He added.

“I sacrificed my whole life for you,” I reminded him, my voice breaking.

“I worked since I was 16 to help with the bills. I never went on a trip, never had a serious girlfriend until Megan, all because I had to take care of you.” His words cut me like knives.

“Theo, I never asked you to sacrifice yourself. I worked double shifts so you wouldn’t lack anything,” I reminded him.

“I sold my car. I pawned my mother’s jewelry. I turned down Mr. Morris when he proposed because you said you didn’t want a stepfather.” Each word came out with pain, remembering all the sacrifices I had made for him.

“That was your obligation!” Megan roared.

“Mothers sacrifice for their children, but children also have the right to receive an inheritance when their parents die or when they’re old and useless!” She slapped me with her left hand.

The sound echoed through the living room. The sting of her fingers burned on my cheek.

Theo approached me with a coldness that chilled my blood.

“Look, Mom, I’m going to explain this to you one more time. Tomorrow you’re coming with us to the bank and transferring all the money to my account. Everything. Not half, not a part, everything,” Theo said.

“If you don’t, Megan and I will make sure the rest of your life is a living hell.” His threat hung in the air like toxic smoke.

“I can’t do that, Theo. I’m not going to hand over all my money,” I replied, trying to sound brave though inside I was trembling.

That’s when Megan completely lost control. She grabbed me by the neck with one hand and took my fractured arm with the other.

“Then we’re going to teach you what happens to stubborn old women who don’t understand the easy way,” Megan hissed.

She twisted my arm with such force that the cast shifted, and I screamed like a wounded animal. The pain shot through me from my shoulder to the tips of my fingers.