“Respect isn’t bought, Michael. It’s earned—or it should be earned simply by virtue of me being your mother.”
Julian cleared his throat gently. “Mrs. Helen, would you like me to call security if these people are making you uncomfortable?”
“That won’t be necessary, Julian,” I said, touching his arm briefly. “They’re my family. Or at least they were.”
Those last words hit like a hammer. I saw the impact on Michael’s face. The tears that began to form in his eyes.
“Mom, please,” he said, taking a step toward me. “I didn’t… we didn’t know. If we had known—”
“If you had known what?” I interrupted. “You would have treated me differently. You would have served me lobster instead of water. You would have spoken to me with respect instead of contempt. That is exactly why I never told you.”
I held his gaze. “Because a son’s love for his mother shouldn’t depend on her bank account.”
Marlene had turned pale. But there was something else in her expression now—something calculating. I could see the wheels turning in her head. Recalculating, re-evaluating.
“Helen,” she said, her voice having completely changed its tone, “I think there has been a terrible misunderstanding. We never wanted—”