My Daughter-in-Law Is Trying to Teach Me Lessons? In My Own House That I Paid For? I Told My Son.

“It was her, wasn’t it? She has been filling your head. She has been telling you things about me.”

“It is not like that, Mom.”

“Then tell me how it is, Lucas.”

“Explain to me why my son, the boy I raised alone while his father worked, the boy I gave everything to, now treats me as if I were a burden, as if I were a problem that needs to be solved.”

The tears started to come out. I could not help it, but they were not tears of weakness.

They were tears of rage, of pain, of everything I had been holding in. Lucas came closer.

He tried to hug me, but I pulled away.

“No, Lucas. You cannot fix it with a hug. Not after everything.”

He let his arms drop. He looked defeated, lost, but he still did not tell me the truth.

He was still protecting Victoria.

“I think you should leave,”

I told him.

“Mom, please.”

“Go, Lucas. Come back when you are ready to tell me the truth. When you are ready to be my son again.”

He stayed there a few seconds more, waiting for me to change my mind, but I did not. Finally, he walked toward the door.

Before leaving, he turned around.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, son, but love is not enough when there is no respect.”

He left and closed the door behind him. I heard the car start; I heard it driving away.

And I stayed there standing in my living room, feeling the silence again. But this time the silence was different.

It was not empty; it was not sad. It was firm, it was decided, because I had set a limit.

For the first time in a long time, I had told my son no. I had told him that I also deserved respect, that I also mattered, and that made me feel strong.

That night, while I was preparing dinner, the phone rang. It was a number I did not know.

I hesitated to answer, but something told me to do it.

“Hello, Mrs. Patricia Miller?”

“Yes, this is her. Who is speaking?”

“My name is Benjamin Foster. I am an attorney. I need to speak with you about an urgent matter related to your house.”

My heart stopped.

“My house? What is wrong with my house?”

“I prefer to speak in person, Mrs. Miller. Could I meet with you tomorrow? It is important.”

I swallowed hard; I felt a chill.

“That is fine. Come tomorrow at 10:00.”

“I will be there. Thank you, ma’am.”

I hung up the phone. I stared at the wall.

What was happening? Why did a lawyer want to talk to me about my house?

And then I knew. This was not over.

Something bigger was coming. That night, I could not sleep.

I stayed awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about the lawyer’s call. What did he want to tell me about my house?

Why was it so urgent? A thousand thoughts went through my head; none good.

At 6:00 in the morning, I was already up. I showered; I dressed carefully.

I wanted to look presentable, strong. I made coffee and sat down to wait.

The hours passed slowly; every minute seemed like an eternity. At 10:00 sharp, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door and saw a man of about 40 years. Gray suit, black briefcase, glasses.

He had a serious but kind face. He extended his hand.

“Good morning, Mrs. Miller. I am Benjamin Foster.”

“Come in.”

I showed him into the living room. I offered him coffee; he accepted.

We sat across from each other. He took some papers out of his briefcase.

I waited in silence; my heart was beating fast.

“Mrs. Miller, I came because I received a very strange inquiry two weeks ago. A woman named Victoria Chase contacted me.”

I felt my stomach drop.

“Victoria?”

“Yes. She told me she was your daughter-in-law. She asked me to investigate the legal status of this property.”

“She wanted to know if there was any way she and her husband could claim rights to this house.”

I froze. I could not believe what I was hearing.

“Claim rights to my house?”

Benjamin nodded; his expression was serious.

“She told me you were getting older, that you could no longer take care of yourself alone, that you needed help.”

“She asked me if there was any legal figure that would allow them to take control of the property for reasons of health or mental incapacity.”

I felt my face burning. Rage rose up my throat like fire.

“Mental incapacity? I am perfectly fine! How does that woman dare to say that?”

“I know, ma’am. That is why I am here. When she made that inquiry, something did not seem right to me.”

“I asked her for documentation, medical certificates, something to back up what she was saying. She never sent them, so I decided to investigate on my own.”

“Investigate what?”

“Victoria Chase.”

Benjamin took more papers out of his briefcase. He put them on the table between us.

“I found something you need to know. Victoria has done this before.”

“What do you mean she has done this before?”

“Four years ago, Victoria was married to another man. An older man, a widower with his own house.”

“She married him. Six months later, the man started showing signs of dementia. Victoria managed to get a doctor to declare him incompetent.”

“She took control of his finances, of his house. The man ended up committed to a nursing home. Victoria sold the house and kept the money.”

“Two months later, she filed for divorce.”

I could not breathe. I could not speak.

I could only look at him while he kept talking.

“The man died the following year, alone in that nursing home, without family, without anything. And Victoria disappeared with all his assets and no one stopped her.”

“No one did anything. The man’s family tried to sue, but by that time the papers were in order. Victoria had been smart. Everything was legal. Technically, she had not stolen anything; she had just taken advantage of the situation.”

I put my hands to my face. I could not believe what I was hearing.

“And my son? Does Lucas know this?”

Benjamin shook his head.

“I do not think so. Victoria is very careful. She looks for vulnerable men, men who need someone, men who are alone or who have just lost someone.”

“Your son lost his father recently, right?”

“Yes, three months ago.”

“There it is. She found him in a weak moment. She seduced him, she convinced him that she was what he needed, and now she is doing the same with you.”

“She wants the house, Mrs. Miller. That is her goal. It has always been her goal.”

The tears started to fall, but they were not tears of sadness. They were of fury, of helplessness, of pain for my son, for my family, for everything.