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

“Oh, Mama Beatrice, your cooking is delicious,” She would say, tasting my pot roast.

“Mama Beatrice, you have to teach me how to make that amazing apple pie.” She made me feel useful, needed.

But in the first few months after they got married, I noticed subtle changes. Megan started making comments about my house.

“Oh, Mom, this living room is so outdated. Theo and I were looking at some more modern decorations in magazines.” Or about my clothes.

“Mom, don’t you think it would be good to update your wardrobe? Ladies don’t wear such bright colors anymore.” Theo backed her up on everything.

If he used to defend my decisions, now he always agreed with Megan.

“Yeah, Mom, Megan’s right. You should modernize a little.” I tried to please them, to change what they wanted, but it was never enough.

There was always something more to criticize, something more to improve. Last year, when I had a heart condition and had to be hospitalized for a week, I thought they would finally show the love they claimed to feel for me.

But Theo only visited me twice, always accompanied by Megan, and they never stayed for more than 20 minutes.

“We have a lot of work, Mom,” Theo would justify.

“You know the business can’t be neglected.” When I left the hospital, weak and scared, I hoped they would take care of me a little.

But Megan told me:

“Mom, we can’t be coming over all the time to look after you. You have to learn to stand on your own two feet. You’re a big girl now. You can’t depend on us for everything.” Her words hurt more than the surgery.

That’s when I started to realize that something was wrong. My son, the boy for whom I had sacrificed everything, no longer saw me as his mother.

He saw me as a burden, as an obstacle on his path to happiness. Megan had achieved what she wanted: to drive Theo away from me, to turn him into her ally against his own mother.

But I still clung to the hope that it was all temporary.

“When they have children, they’ll understand what a mother’s love is,” I would tell myself.

“When they become parents, they’ll value everything I did for them.” How naive I was.

Megan’s pregnancy hadn’t softened them; it had made them greedier, crueler. Now, lying in my bed with a broken arm and a shattered heart, I understood that my son was lost forever.

The sweet boy I had raised had died, and in his place was this man who saw me as a source of money. The Theo who hugged me when he had nightmares no longer existed.

In his place was a stranger who threatened me and allowed his wife to beat me.

“Forgive me, son,” I murmured in the darkness.

“Forgive me for loving you so much that I didn’t see what you were becoming. Forgive me for not setting boundaries when I should have. But most of all, forgive me for what I’m going to do tomorrow.” At 6:00 in the morning, I got out of bed without having slept for an hour.

My arm hurt horribly, but there was something stronger than physical pain running through my veins: determination. I went to the kitchen and put water on to boil for my chamomile tea.

I needed to think clearly, to plan every move of this day that would change everything forever. While I waited for the water to boil, I took the winning lottery ticket I had bought five days ago out of my purse.

It was $20 I had set aside from my pension, the last I had left after paying the electricity and water bills.

“If I win anything, even $100, I’ll buy myself some new arthritis medicine,” I had thought as I chose the numbers.

The birthday numbers of my late husband, Theo’s date of birth, the day we got married. I never imagined those numbers would give me $4 million.

When I saw the result on the evening news, I had to sit on the floor from the shock. I checked the ticket 10 times before convincing myself it was real.

I cried with joy, thinking about all I could do: a more comfortable house, a trip I had always dreamed of, helping Theo with his future, securing my future grandchild’s college education. My first instinct had been to call Theo to share the news.

“Son, you’re not going to believe what happened!” I shouted into the phone that night, almost breathless.

“We won the lottery! $4 million!” On the other end of the line, there was a strange silence.

Then I heard Megan screaming with excitement in the background.

“Theo, tell her to come over here right now! We have to celebrate!” That same night, they arrived at my house with a bottle of cheap champagne and a smile that I now understand was not of joy, but of greed.

“Mom, I can’t believe we won so much money,” Theo said, hugging me tighter than he had in years.

Megan cried with emotion, stroking my hand with a sweetness that seemed strange to me, but which I attributed to the shock of the moment.

“Mama Beatrice, you’re not going to have to worry about anything ever again,” Megan told me as she uncorked the champagne.

“With that money, we’re all going to be happy. We can buy a big house for the three of us, a business for Theo, everything we’ve ever dreamed of.” I listened to her excited, thinking that we would finally have the united family I had always wanted.

But the next morning, when I woke up with a hangover from the champagne, I found Theo and Megan sitting at my kitchen table with papers spread out and calculators.

“Good morning, Mom,” Theo greeted me without looking up from the numbers he was writing.

“Megan and I were up all night doing the math. We’ve already got everything planned for the money.” I poured myself a coffee and sat down with them, curious to hear their ideas.

“Look, Mom,” Theo showed me a sheet full of numbers.

“With $4 million, we can buy that house in Green Hills that costs $1.2 million. Then we invest $2 million in the auto parts business I always wanted to start. And with the remaining $800,000, we set up a savings account for the baby.” “And for me?” I asked naively.

Megan and Theo looked at each other as if I had said something foolish.

“Oh, Mama Beatrice, you’re going to live with us in the new house. You’ll have your own bedroom, your own bathroom, everything you need. What do you need separate money for?” Megan replied with that fake smile I was beginning to know.

“But honey, I want to maintain my independence. Maybe buy myself a small house near you, take care of some health problems I have pending,” I explained, trying to sound reasonable.

Theo dropped the calculator on the table with a thud.