I Opened My Lockbox… It Was Empty. My Daughter-In-Law Told Me, “We Donated Everything. You Don’t Really Need That Right Now Anyway.” I Calmly Replied, “You’re Right, I Don’t Need It. But You Are Going To Need An Advisor.” The Look On Her FACE WAS PRICELESS.

“We can do a lot, but I need you to authorize an investigation. Do you trust me with your life?”

“Yes.”

“Give me a week.”

That week was the longest of my life.

The days crawled by. The ticking of the living room clock hammered at my temples. Every time Valerie entered a room, I held my breath.

At home, I acted like nothing was wrong. I smiled when Valerie gave me orders. I nodded when she told me what to eat, what to watch, what to do.

I became the submissive old woman she wanted me to be. But inside, I was a storm of rage. Seven days later, Patrick called.

“Come in tomorrow. I have information.”

This time, when I arrived, there was a thick folder on his desk. “Sit down, Beatatrice.

This isn’t going to be easy.”

He opened the folder and pulled out several documents. “First, the jewelry. I hired a private investigator.”

“They weren’t donated.”

My heart lurched.

“Where are they?”

“In a pawn shop on the south side. Pawned in the name of Valerie Ramirez.”

“How much?”

“For $35,000.”

Thirty-five thousand dollars. Ernest’s emeralds.

My mother’s pearls. Forty years of memories turned into cash. “There’s more.”

He slid some bank statements across the desk.

“I checked your account activity since you gave Valerie access.” His finger pointed to highlighted figures. “Constant withdrawals, transfers, excessive purchases.”

“How much?” I asked, though I was terrified of the answer. Patrick looked me straight in the eye.

“A total of $89,000.”

Almost a hundred thousand dollars. The world stopped spinning. A million pesos—the U.S.

equivalent of nearly $90,000. Money Ernest and I had scrimped and saved for. Money from my pension.

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