On Mother’s Day, my millionaire son visited me and asked, “Are you enjoying the $7,000?”

At three, the bell rang. Mole filled the house, mixed with gardenias. Mother’s Day.

Ricardo, my son, arrived in a sharp suit, Samantha at his side with flowers.

– Are you enjoying the seven thousand, Mom?

Seven thousand? Three months I’d been scraping by, selling tamales, while the money sat untouched.

I realized the money had gone to Tomás, the neighbor I trusted.

– To Tomás, I whispered.

Ricardo and Samantha stormed out. Minutes later, shouts rang. I peeked: Ricardo gripping Tomás, Samantha recording.

– Return my mother’s money, you bastard!

Sirens approached. Neighbors gathered. Amid the chaos, a cold calm settled in me.

My boy was no longer a boy. And I… was no longer alone.