When my grandfather came in after I gave birth, his first words were: “My dear, weren’t the 250,000 I sent you every month enough?”

I felt a tightness in my chest. “Not once.”

Before I could answer, the door burst open. My husband, Mark, and my mother-in-law, Vivian, walked in, laden with shiny shopping bags emblazoned with luxury logos—brands I could barely afford to look at. They said they’d just been “running some errands.” Their voices were cheerful and carefree…until they saw my grandfather sitting by my bed.

Vivian stopped dead in her tracks. The bags shifted in her arms. Mark’s smile vanished instantly as his gaze flickered between me, my grandfather, and the tension reflected in my face.

My grandfather broke the silence with a voice so calm it was frightening. “Mark… Vivian…I want to ask you something.” His eyes never left them. “Where exactly has the money I’ve been sending my granddaughter gone?”

Mark swallowed. Vivian blinked rapidly, pressing her lips together as if searching for a story. The air in the room felt dense and heavy.
I hugged my newborn a little tighter, my hands shaking uncontrollably.