Chapter 10 - THOMAS ASKED MOM TO FORGIVE HIMThomas came to Mom’s house six months later.
With attorneys’ permission.
She agreed.
I was there.
Emily too.
Thomas looked terrible.
Older.
Smaller.
He sat across from Mom.
“I’m sorry.”
She waited.
“I told myself David was right.”
Silence.
“We thought you were going to give everything away.”
Mom replied:
“It was mine to give.”
Thomas flinched.
“I know.”
“No. You know now.”
He nodded.
Then:
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Being ordinary.”
That surprised me.
Thomas had spent his entire adult life inside family wealth.
Cars.
Homes.
Private clubs.
But beneath it was fear.
“If I didn’t inherit enough, what did all those years mean?”
Mom looked sad.
“You worked?”
“Yes.”
“You had a family?”
“Yes.”
“You had children?”
“Yes.”
“You were alive.”
Thomas cried.
Money had become proof that his life mattered.
That did not excuse what he did.
But it explained part of the desperation.
Mom said:
“I can love you and still not trust you.”
He nodded.
That was probably the most important sentence of the meeting.
Love did not restore financial authority.
Remorse did not erase consequences.
Thomas faced legal penalties tied to coercion and fraudulent filings.
He also entered therapy.
Slowly.
Quietly.
May you like
Not magically redeemed.
But changing.
