The Missing 800K: A Mother's Break With Her Sons

In my previous life, my three sons told me they wanted to set up a Family Bond Fund for me. Each of them would deposit three thousand dollars every month. I cried with gratitude, truly believing that decades of sacrifice had finally paid off.

One of them even said, "Mom, you've given us so much. It's our turn to take care of you now."

However, eight years later, I was told I have uremia. That was when I discover that the bank card, which supposedly held the fund, couldn't even cover the dialysis deposit.

Soon after, my eldest son video-called me. He said he wanted to buy a better apartment in a good school district. He was short of 150 thousand dollars for the down payment and asked if I could lend it to him first.

My second son came to the hospital with his wife and daughter. He didn't ask about my condition at all. Instead, he kept showing off his daughter's piano competition trophy, hinting that he needed 50 thousand dollars to enroll her in a prestigious international piano program.

My youngest son was even more straightforward. He said he had his eye on a limited-edition pair of sneakers and wanted me to pay 30 thousand dollars for them as a birthday gift.

The moment they realized the bank account didn't have enough money, their faces fell.

"We each put in three thousand dollars every month. Over eight years, that's at least eight hundred thousand dollars. Mom, are you hiding the money from us?"

To force me to reveal my savings, they took turns pressuring me, switching between sweet talk and threats. They even told relatives that I had dementia and had been scammed out of my money.

Unable to take it anymore, I yanked out my IV late one night and walked out of the hospital, only to be hit by a car, dying instantly.

When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day of my hospital checkup.

There was no weightless sensation of dying, no frantic shouts ringing in my ears.

I, Susan Jenkins, trembled as I opened my eyes, only to find the familiar corridor and the glaring white lights overhead.

I was back in the same hospital I was in before my death. I'd actually been reborn!

Suddenly, my phone crackled with the urgent voice of my eldest son, Ryan Sutton.

"Mom, I'm talking to you! Can you hear me? That school district apartment is in huge demand. If we don't pay the down payment now, someone else will snap it up! I'm only short of 150 thousand dollars. Just help me cover it for now. I'll pay you back later."

It sounded just like the tone he'd adopt eight years from now when he forced me to hand over cash.

My grip tightened around the phone as memories came crashing back.

In my previous life, this was the exact day. I had just received my test results and learned something was wrong with my health when his call came in.

Back then, I had honestly told him there wasn't that much money left in the bank account that was supposed to hold the Family Bond Fund.

Yet, he said, "What? Not enough money? Mom, are you kidding me?"

In my mind, his eyes from the video call that time, glaring with anger, flickered before me.

"Mom, the three of us put in three thousand dollars every month. Eight years adds up to more than 800 thousand dollars! You must be confused, or you got tricked by some scammer and spent it all! Think carefully. Where did the money go? Did you give it to that distant nephew? I knew he was up to no good!

"I need 150 thousand dollars now, Mom. Withdraw it from the bank immediately. If the apartment's gone, what will become of your grandson's schooling?"

Those words broke my heart. I had lived my entire life frugally. I wore the same clothes for ten years and waited for discounts even on groceries. How could I have spent the money? However, none of them believed me.

Not long after that call, my second son, Victor Sutton, showed up with his daughter, smiling brightly as he held a trophy. "Mom, look! Isn't Molly amazing? The instructor says that if we enroll her in an international piano program, she's guaranteed to become a famous pianist! The money on your card is just sitting there anyway…"

My youngest son, Leo Sutton, was even more forthright. He texted me a picture of sneakers and said, "Mom, this is all I want for my birthday. It's only 30 thousand dollars. That's nothing compared to what you have on the card."

The moment I said there was no money left in the bank account, their expressions shifted instantly.

"Are you senile? The money must've been scammed away!"

"We've worked so hard saving that for you! How could you just waste it?"

"Hand over the money now! Otherwise, we'll get our relatives involved and let them decide who's right!"

And they really did. They went to every relative we had, telling them I had lost my mind and squandered my retirement savings.

I endured whispers and accusations. That night, unable to bear it any longer, I pulled out my IV and went outside for some air. That was when I was hit by a car.

…

"Mom! Are you listening?"

Ryan's voice rose sharply through the phone, yanking me back to the present.

His voice was thick with irritation when he said, "You must transfer the 150 thousand dollars today!"

I took a deep breath. My heart was still pounding, my palms slick with cold sweat.

In this life, I wouldn't let them manipulate me again.

Grinding my teeth, I said, "I don't have any money!"

Before he could respond, I hung up.

As the screen went dark, the image of myself crushed beneath car headlights from my previous life flashed before my eyes. Then, tears started streaming down my face.

These ungrateful sons—I was done with them!