Thomas looked at her, his smile slipping just a fraction.

“Caroline, this is for your own good,” he said.

“I know you’re young, but you have to trust me.”

“I’ve spent years preparing for this moment.”

“Preparing how?” she asked.

“By ignoring me?”

“By letting Grandma pay for my surgeries alone?”

Thomas took a deep breath, his chest expanding.

“I was sending what I could,” he said.

“It wasn’t much, but I made sure you were taken care of.”

That was a lie.

He had never sent a single dime.

I had worked two jobs until my knees gave out to pay for her physical therapy.

“You didn’t send anything, Thomas,” I said, my voice steady.

“Let’s be honest about that, at least.”

He glared at me, his eyes narrowing.

“I sent cash, Mother,” he hissed.

“In cards. You must have forgotten.”

“Or maybe you just don’t want to admit I was trying.”

He was digging his own grave, and Caroline’s phone was catching every shovelful.

“I didn’t forget,” I said.

“There were no cards.”

Thomas stood up, his height dominating the small room.