I invited my son and daughter-in-law to Christmas dinner. I surprised my son with a BMW and gave my daughter-in-law a designer handbag. Then my son scoffed, “Mom, my wife told me I have to teach you a lesson. There’s no gift for you.” My daughter-in-law sat there laughing gleefully at my embarrassment. I slowly took out an envelope: “Good. Then I still have a gift for you two.” As she opened the envelope, her hands began to tremble…
Chapter 1: The Red Bow on the Hood
Thick snow fell on the gravel roads of Greenwich. Outside the French window of the mansion, a gleaming black, brand-new BMW X5 M-Sport sat proudly. On the hood was a huge red bow, bright as blood against the white snow.
I, Eleanor Vance, 60, a retired CEO of an import-export corporation, stood looking at the car and smiled. It was a gift I had for my only son, Mark.
Mark, 32, worked in finance but had never really been successful. His wife, Jessica, was a young, beautiful, stylish woman, but her eyes always darted around, assessing everything in the room.
Our relationship wasn’t smooth. Jessica always whispered in Mark’s ear that I was an overbearing mother-in-law, controlling everything with money. But as a widow, I always tried to ignore it. I thought that generosity would buy harmony.
On the Christmas dinner table, next to the heirloom silver dinnerware, was a small, black velvet-lined Chanel box. Inside was a $10,000 Classic Flap handbag for Jessica.
I’d spent over $100,000 on this evening. I wanted to see them smile. I wanted a warm Christmas night.
7 p.m. The doorbell rang.
Mark and Jessica walked in, shaking off the snow from their coats. No smiles, no hugs.
“Hello, Mom,” Mark said curtly, walking straight into the living room and pouring himself a glass of my expensive Scotch without asking.
Jessica brushed past me, her perfume overpowering. “Your house is too hot, Eleanor, you should adjust the thermostat.” She called me by my first name, omitting “Mom” or “Auntie.”
I swallowed my discomfort. “Come eat, kids. The turkey is hot.”
Dinner was met with a suffocating silence. The clinking of knives and forks against porcelain plates sounded like weapons.
“I have presents for you two,” I tried to break the ice, pushing the Chanel gift box toward Jessica and the BMW keys toward Mark.
Jessica’s eyes lit up. She tore open the wrapping and pulled out the bag. “Black? I prefer beige. But never mind, it’ll do for now.”
Mark picked up the keys and pressed the button. The car’s lights outside flashed. He looked out the window and nodded. “That’s nice. A V8 engine, right? Good.”
Not a word of thanks.
I sat there, my hands clasped. I waited. I waited for them to pull out a small gift, or at least a card. A pair of socks, a book, or just a hug.
“So…” I hesitated. “Do you two have anything for me?”
Mark and Jessica exchanged glances. A look full of hidden meaning and cruelty. Jessica smirked, nodding to her husband.
Mark set his glass down. He leaned back in his chair, looking at me with a condescending gaze.
“Mom,” Mark sneered, his voice cold. “My wife told me to teach you a lesson. No gift for you.”
I was speechless. “A lesson? What lesson?”
“A lesson about respecting boundaries,” Jessica interjected, her voice sharp. “You always use money to buy us. You buy cars, houses, handbags to make us feel indebted. You want to control our lives. So this year, your gift is punishment. We’re not buying anything. To let you know that your money can’t buy affection.”
“That’s right,” Mark chimed in. “Mom, you need to learn humility. Accepting your gifts is already a favor we’ve bestowed upon you, so you can feel useful again.”
Jessica smirked at the stunned and embarrassed expression on my face. She stroked her brand-new Chanel bag, savoring the triumphant feeling of someone who had just slapped their benefactor in the face.
Chapter 2: The Blue Envelope
My heart shattered. But amidst the ashes of maternal love, another flame ignited. The flame of clarity.
I had suspected it for a long time. I had seen the signs. But I chose to be blind. And tonight, that blindness ended.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.
I slowly rose, walking towards the antique buffet. I opened the drawer and took out a dark blue envelope.
I returned to the dining table and sat down. My expression was so calm that it caused Jessica’s smile to falter slightly.
“Good,” I said softly. “Then Mom still has a gift for you two.”
“What is it again?” Mark asked, his voice greedy. “A cash check?”
I pushed the envelope toward Mark.
“Open it, son. This is a lesson I’m giving you.”
Mark took the envelope. He tore it open roughly, expecting to see a string of zeros on a bank check.
But inside wasn’t a check.
It was a thick stack of legal documents, clipped together with secretly taken photos.
Mark pulled out the first sheet of paper.
As soon as he saw the title, his hands began to tremble. The BMW key slipped from his hand, clattering onto the table with a dry click.
“What… what is this?” Mark stammered, his face drained of color.
Jessica lunged forward and snatched the paper. She glanced through it, and the arrogant smile vanished, replaced by utter horror.
It was a Foreclosure Notice and a Termination of Authorization Notice.
“You’re right,” I said, taking a sip of wine. “I used money to control it.”
“But you’re mistaken. I don’t use money to buy affection. I use money to bail out your stupidity.”
I pointed to the file.
“Mark, do you think the house in Tribeca you two are living in is yours?”
“I… I’m the one listed on the title, but I’m the one named on the mortgage and the sole guarantor,” I said clearly. “And more importantly, that house belongs to the Vance Family Trust, which I manage. The trust terms state: If the beneficiary acts ungratefully, insults, or causes emotional harm to the trustee, the right to use the property will be immediately revoked.”
“Mom… you can’t…” Jessica screamed.
“I activated that clause this afternoon, right before you arrived,” I interrupted coldly. “My lawyer has notified the court.” “You have 30 days to get out of that $3 million apartment. And since Mark can’t pay the loan without my guarantee, the bank will foreclose.”
Mark slumped into his chair. But the nightmare didn’t end there.
“Turn to the next page,” I commanded.
Mark trembled as he turned the page. It was a series of photos.
Photos of Mark sitting in an underground casino in Atlantic City.
Photos of Mark signing a loan agreement with a mob boss.
And photos of Mark secretly withdrawing money from my company account – where I had given him the nominal CFO position.
“I knew you embezzled $500,000 to pay off your gambling debts,” I said. “I was going to overlook it. I was going to use my year-end bonus to cover it for you, so the Board wouldn’t sue you.”
I looked at the BMW key on the table.
“That car? It wasn’t a gift. It was your means of getting to work to pay off your debts.” “But you chose to teach me a lesson. Then I’ll let you learn a lesson from the law.”
I took out my phone and placed it on the table. The screen showed a pending call.
“I sent all the evidence of your embezzlement to the FBI and the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) an hour ago. This call is from the company’s lawyer. They’re drafting a severance order and prosecution.”
Chapter 3: Jessica’s Twist
Mark yelled, lunging forward and grabbing my hand. “Mom! You’re killing me! I’m going to jail! Mom, save me!”
I pushed his hand away. “You had a chance. You had a dinner to say sorry or thank you.” “But I chose cruelty.”
I turned to Jessica. She was standing frozen, her face pale. She looked at the Chanel bag, then at me.
“And you,” I said. “Do you think you’re innocent?”
I pulled out the last piece of paper from the envelope.
“Jessica, you’ve always been proud of your fashion store, haven’t you? The store that Mark said he invested in?”
“Yes! It’s mine!” Jessica hissed.
“Wrong,” I smiled. “That investment was money Mark stole from the parent company. And according to RICO (Risky Criminals and Gangs Act), any assets formed from ill-gotten gains are confiscated.”
“The FBI is on its way to seal your store.” “And because she was the one who directly used that money, she’ll be charged with Money Laundering.”
Jessica collapsed to the floor. Her sharp, arrogant eyes were now just two deep pits of despair.
“You’re a devil…” she whispered.
“No, Jessica,” I stood up and walked toward the fireplace. “I’m the one who paid for your lavish lifestyle for the past five years. And now I’m stopping paying. It’s as simple as that.”
Chapter 4: The End in the Snowy Night
The sirens of the police blared in the distance, echoing through the thick glass. Mark and Jessica looked at each other in panic.
“Mom! We’re sorry! Please withdraw the lawsuit!” “We’ll do anything you want, Mom!” Mark cried, crawling at my feet like a dog.
I looked down at the son I had carried and given birth to. The pain in my heart had vanished, replaced by a strange emptiness and peace.
“It’s too late,” I said.
I grabbed the BMW keys and threw them into the blazing fireplace. The plastic melted, emitting a pungent, burnt smell.
“That car was under a lease in my name. I canceled the lease. It’ll be towed away tomorrow morning.”
I pointed to the door.
“Now, get out of my house. The police will be waiting for you at the gate.” “Don’t let them barge in here and ruin my carpet.”
Mark and Jessica trudged out the door, their initial enthusiasm gone. The Chanel bag was left on the chair, alone and meaningless.
The door closed.
I stood alone in the vast mansion. Christmas Eve still twinkled with lights.
I went to the window. Outside, police cars had arrived. The flashing red and blue lights against the white snow created a surreal scene. I saw my son and daughter-in-law handcuffed and pushed into a car.
I didn’t cry.
I returned to the table. I poured myself a glass of red wine.
I picked up my fork and cut a piece of turkey. It was cold, but to me, it was the best piece I’d ever eaten.
They wanted to teach me a lesson about not having gifts?
They were right. The greatest gift isn’t a car or a handbag. The greatest gift is freedom from parasites, even… when they carry my blood.
I raise my glass, toasting.
Happy to myself.
“Merry Christmas, Eleanor.”
