On Thanksgiving Day, my millionaire son visited me and asked, “Did you like the lake house I gave..
Margaret Harrison thought her son David was too busy with his successful business to help her financially. Working as a janitor and struggling to afford basic necessities including medication, she never suspected that David had been sending her money and even bought her a lake house two years earlier.
On Thanksgiving Day, my millionaire son visited me and asked, “Did you like the lake house I gave you, Mom?” In shock, I replied, “What house? I never received anything.” My gold digger daughter-in-law slowly walked up to him. I’m glad to have you here. Follow my story until the end and comment the city you’re watching from so I can see how far my story has reached.
I never expected that a simple question on Thanksgiving would shatter everything I thought I knew about my life.
For the past two years, I’d been struggling to make ends meet on my janitor’s salary, rationing my blood pressure medication, and wearing the same worn coat through two harsh winters. But I told myself it was temporary, that things would get better.
My son David had built an empire from nothing. At 35, he owned a successful tech consulting firm that employed over 200 people. I was proud of him, even though our conversations had become brief phone calls about business meetings and client dinners.
After his father died 3 years ago, David threw himself into work, and I understood. Grief affects everyone differently.
The house felt different that Thanksgiving morning. I’d spent hours preparing his favorite dishes, even though the grocery bill would mean skipping lunch for the next week. My small kitchen barely contained all the pots and pans, but I wanted everything perfect for his visit.
It had been 4 months since I’d seen him in person. When David walked through my front door, I was struck by how expensive everything looked. His watch, his shoes, even his casual sweater probably cost more than my monthly rent. Behind him walked Victoria, his wife of 3 years. She wore a cream colored coat that looked like it belonged in a magazine, her blonde hair perfectly styled despite the November wind.
“Mom, the house smells incredible,” David said, hugging me briefly before stepping back to help Victoria with her coat. She smiled at me, that polished smile she always wore, but her eyes seemed to be calculating something.
We sat down to dinner, and I listened as David talked about expanding his business to the West Coast. Victoria chimed in occasionally, mentioning their recent trip to Europe and the renovations they were planning for their home. I nodded and smiled, even though each detail reminded me of the growing distance between my life and theirs.
Then, as I was serving the pumpkin pie, David leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“Mom, I’ve been meaning to ask you something that’s been on my mind.”
I sat down the pie server, giving him my full attention.
“How are you enjoying the lakehouse I gave you 2 years ago? I know you’ve always loved being near the water.”
The words hit me like ice water. I stared at him, my mouth slightly open, trying to process what he just said.
Lakehouse?
I felt my heartbeat quicken as confusion washed over me.
“What lakehouse, honey? I never received any lakehouse.”
David’s smile faltered. He glanced at Victoria, who had gone very still beside him.
“the house on Lake Morrison. I had it transferred to your name for your birthday 2 years ago. Don’t you remember?”
I shook my head slowly, feeling dizzy.
“David, I would remember receiving a house. I’ve never gotten anything like that. Are you sure you’re not thinking of someone else?”
Victoria suddenly stood up, her napkin falling to the floor.
“Oh, I just remembered,” she said, her voice slightly higher than usual. “I need to make a phone call about tomorrow’s appointment. Excuse me.”
She walked quickly toward the kitchen, pulling out her phone, but something about her movement felt wrong—urgent in a way that made my stomach clench.
David was frowning now, his businessman’s mind clearly trying to solve a puzzle.
“Mom, that’s impossible. I specifically had my assistant handle all the paperwork. The deed should have been mailed to you, and there were supposed to be monthly maintenance payments set up, too.”
Monthly payments.
I felt my legs weaken.
“What monthly payments?”
“The $1,500 I’ve been sending you every month to help with expenses. My assistant assured me you were receiving everything.”
The room seemed to tilt.
$1,500 a month for 2 years.
That was $36,000.
Enough to have changed everything for me. Enough to buy the medications I needed, to fix my car, to not worry about every grocery purchase.
I gripped the edge of the table.
“David, I swear to you, I haven’t received any monthly payments. I’ve been struggling to pay for my blood pressure medication. Last month, I had to choose between groceries and my electric bill.”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page to discover the rest 🔎👇
