The hope died.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know who you really are now. I know what you think of me when the chips are down. I know where I rank in your priorities.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? When I was homeless and desperate, I was an inconvenience. Now that I have money, I’m family again. If that’s not telling, I don’t know what is.”
She stood up, anger replacing the fake tears.
“Fine, be stubborn, but don’t expect me to keep begging. I try to make things right by offering to let me stay in the house you previously said was too chaotic for me. I was trying to help.”
Now you were.
Two weeks ago, you were trying to get rid of me.
She stormed out, slamming Dorothy’s front door behind her.
Dorothy, who’d been listening from the kitchen, came out with a satisfied smile.
“Good for you.”
“Was I too harsh?”
“Harsh? Honey, you were too kind. That girl showed her true colors, and now she’s mad that you noticed.”
But Rebecca wasn’t done.
If anything, my refusal to fall for her sudden change of heart only made her more determined.
The next day, she arrived with reinforcements.
Sarah and Jake.
My heart broke a little, seeing my grandchildren.
Sarah was 18 now, beautiful and poised, ready for college.
Jake was 16, tall and lanky with his grandfather’s eyes.
I loved them dearly.
And Rebecca knew it.
“Grandma Olivia.”
Jake ran to me and hugged me tight.
“Mom told us about the fire. Are you okay, sweet Jake?”
Honest and direct, the way teenagers can be.
“Sweetheart. Mom said you might move away. You can’t move away. Who’s going to come to my basketball games?”
Sarah hung back, more reserved.
But I could see the worry in her eyes.
“Grandma, mom says you’re upset with us.”
“I’m not upset with you kids. Never with you.”
“But you’re upset with mom.”
Smart Sarah.
She always could read a room.
“Your mother and I have some things to work out.”
Rebecca stepped forward using her children as shields.
“See, Mom, the kids need you. They don’t understand why you won’t come stay with us.”
“Because grandma’s not stupid,” Jake said, surprising everyone.
“Are you Grandma?”
“Jake,” Rebecca snapped. “That’s not appropriate.”
“Why not? You think grandma doesn’t know you only want her around now because she’s rich.”
Out of the mouths of babes.
“That’s enough, Rebecca,” I said sharply.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Jake looked at his mother with disappointment that was painful to watch. “Grandma’s house burned down and you told her she couldn’t stay with us. Now she has money and suddenly we have room. I’m 16, not six. I can do math.”
Sarah looked horrified.
“Mom, is that true? You didn’t let grandma stay with us?”
Rebecca’s face was crimson.
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“How?” Sarah demanded. “How is it complicated to help your own mother?”
“You kids don’t understand.”
“No, mom,” Sarah interrupted, and I never heard her speak to her mother that way. “I think we understand perfectly.”
She turned to me with tears in her eyes.
“Grandma, I’m so sorry. If I’d known, I would have said something. I would have made her.”
“It’s not your responsibility, sweetheart.”
“But it is.” Sarah was crying now. “She’s my mother, which means how she treats you reflects on all of us. And I’m ashamed.”
Rebecca looked like she’d been slapped.
“Sarah, that’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” Sarah said. “Grandma Olivia put you through college. She gave you everything. And when she needed help, you turned her away. That’s not the person you raised me to be.”
Jake nodded in agreement.
“It’s pretty messed up, Mom.”
“I was trying to protect our family’s stability by throwing away Grandma.”
Jake shook his head.
“That’s not protection. That’s just mean.”
Rebecca was losing control of the narrative she’d tried to create.
“Fine,” she said, her voice cold. “Everyone thinks I’m a terrible daughter.”
“Is that what you want to hear?” Sarah asked.
“We want to hear the truth,” Sarah said quietly.
The truth.
Rebecca’s kryptonite.
“The truth is that I made a mistake. The truth is that I was overwhelmed and scared and I handled things badly. The truth is that I’m trying to make it right, but your grandmother won’t let me.”
“Some mistakes can’t be fixed,” I said gently.
“That’s not true,” Rebecca said desperately. “Any mistake can be fixed if people are willing to forgive.”
“I’ve forgiven you.”
“Then come home with us.”
“Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It doesn’t mean pretending it didn’t happen. It doesn’t mean putting myself in a position to be hurt the same way again.”
Sarah looked at me with her wise 18-year-old eyes.
“You don’t trust her anymore.”
“No, sweetheart. I don’t.”
“Because of the money,” Jake said.
It wasn’t a question.
“The money changed everything. It showed me that your mother’s love comes with conditions.”
Rebecca was crying now.
Ugly tears that smeared her makeup.
“That’s not true. I love you no matter what.”
“Do you? Then why didn’t you love me enough to help me when I had nothing?”
She had no answer for that, because there was no answer that didn’t make her look exactly like what she was.
A selfish woman who only cared about family when it was convenient.
The kids hugged me goodbye.
Both of them apologizing for their mother’s behavior.
After they left, Sarah texted me.
“I’m sorry, Grandma. She’s wrong and I know it. You deserve better.”
Even my own grandchildren could see what Rebecca couldn’t or wouldn’t admit.
But Rebecca’s campaign wasn’t over.
If anything, being called out by her own children only made her more desperate, and desperate people do foolish things.
After the disastrous visit with the kids, Rebecca’s approach changed dramatically.
If guilt and family obligation weren’t going to work, she’d try a different tactic.
Making herself the victim.
It started with a Facebook post that made my blood boil.
Going through a difficult time with family right now. Sometimes when people come into money, it changes them. All I want is to help my mother, but she’s pushing everyone away. Please pray for our family during this challenging time. Brokenheart #family # prayer # hurt.
Within hours, the post had dozens of comments from Rebecca’s friends and acquaintances.
I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Money really does change people. Your mother is lucky to have such a caring daughter. Some people don’t know how good they have it.
Rebecca was painting herself as the long-suffering daughter trying to help an ungrateful mother who’d been corrupted by sudden wealth.
It was masterfully manipulative.
And completely false.
Dorothy showed me the post on her phone, her face red with fury.
“That little witch. How dare she twist this around—”
But I wasn’t angry.
I was impressed.
In a sick way.
Rebecca had taken a situation where she was clearly the villain and somehow made herself the victim.
It was actually brilliant.
“She’s good,” I said calmly.
“Good, Olivia? She’s lying about you on the internet.”
“Yes, she is. And everyone believes her because it fits their preconceptions about money corrupting people.”
“Aren’t you going to defend yourself?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because defending yourself against a lie often makes you look guilty. And because I have a better plan.”
The Facebook post was just the beginning.
Rebecca launched a full-scale social media campaign designed to make me look like a cruel, moneyobsessed woman who was punishing her loving family.
She posted old photos of us together with captions like, “Missing better times with my mom. Money changed everything. Crying face #heartbroken # family.”
She shared articles about lottery winners who became estranged from their families, adding comments like, “This is exactly what I’m living through right now.”
She even posted a photo of Sarah and Jake looking sad with a caption, “When your kids ask why grandma won’t come to family dinners anymore, and you don’t know what to tell them, broken heart.”
The manipulation was breathtaking in its scope and audacity.
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