“Babe? Oh my god, I just landed and saw your messages. Are you okay? Is Emma okay?”
I told him everything. The accident. Mom’s refusal. The care service I’d hired.
“Your mom said no?” His voice rose. “She said no to watching her own grandchild during a medical emergency?”
“She has a cruise tomorrow.”
“I don’t give a damn if she has a meeting with the Pope. You were in a car accident.” He took a breath. “I’m getting a flight back right now. I’ll be there in three hours.”
“What about your presentation?”
“Screw the presentation. My wife is in the hospital.”
That’s when I started crying. Not because of the pain or the fear, but because Marcus’s immediate response showed me what real family was supposed to look like. And it made my mother’s rejection hurt even more.
After they admitted me for overnight observation, I did something I’d been thinking about since the ambulance ride. Something I’d been too afraid to do for nine years. I opened my banking app and navigated to automatic payments.
There it was. The transfer I set up when I was 19 years old. When I’d gotten my first real job after college and my parents had mentioned they were struggling with their mortgage after Dad’s hours got cut.
$4,500. Every single month. For 108 months.
I’d never told them it was me. The payments went to a separate account I’d set up, then automatically transferred to their mortgage company. They thought Dad’s pension had increased. Or that Mom’s part-time bookkeeping brought in more than it did.
They never asked questions. They just enjoyed their financial stability. That $4,500 paid their entire mortgage with enough left over for their car payment.
It’s how they could afford spa days and Caribbean cruises and shopping trips with my sister. It’s how Dad could retire at 62 instead of working until 65.
$4,500 times 108 months. $486,000. I’d paid nearly half a million dollars to keep my parents comfortable.
And my mother couldn’t spare three hours to hold her granddaughter while I was in the hospital. I canceled the automatic payment. Then I did something else.
I opened a new savings account. I named it Emma’s Future. I set up the same automatic transfer. $4,500 per month. But this time to an account for my daughter.
The daughter my mother couldn’t be bothered to help. My finger hovered over the confirm button for only a second. Then I pressed it.
A nurse came in to check my vitals. “You’re looking better,” she said. “Color is back in your face.”
“I just made a decision I should have made years ago.”
She smiled. “Those are usually the best kind.”
Around 8 p.m., there was a knock on my hospital room door. I expected Marcus, but instead, a tall man in his 70s walked in. Gray hair, sharp blue eyes, wearing a cardigan despite the California heat.
Grandpa. My mother’s father. The man who taught me to fish, who’d paid for my college textbooks when money was tight, who’d slipped me $200 every birthday for something special even after I was an adult.
“Grandpa.” I tried to sit up, wincing. “How did you…?”
“Mrs. Chen called me.” He pulled a chair close to my bed. “Said you’d been in an accident and that my daughter refused to help with the baby. Said she overheard your phone conversation when you stopped by to get Emma earlier.”
I’d picked up Emma from Mrs. Chen’s house before the paramedics took me to the hospital. The care specialist, Claudia, had met me there. Apparently, Mrs. Chen had been horrified by what she’d heard.
“Grandpa, I’m okay. Emma’s with a professional caregiver. Everything’s…”
“Stop.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Don’t do that. Don’t minimize what happened.”
He sat in silence for a moment, just looking at me. Then he said, “Your grandmother and I paid for that cruise.”
I blinked. “What?”
“The Caribbean cruise your mother’s been talking about for months. We paid for it. Bought it for her and your father’s anniversary. Cost us $12,000 for the premium package.”
He shook his head. “I thought we were giving them a nice gift. Didn’t realize we were funding their excuse to abandon their daughter and granddaughter.”
“Grandpa, you didn’t know.”
“I called your mother an hour ago.” His voice hardened. “Told her I knew what she did. You know what she said?”
I waited.
“She said you were being dramatic. That you were fine. That you’d always been too dependent and needed to learn to handle things yourself.” He leaned forward. “Then she said, ‘Emma isn’t even my responsibility. Rebecca chose to have a baby. She needs to deal with the consequences.'”
The words hit me like a second collision. “Consequences,” I repeated. “She called my daughter a consequence.”
“That’s when I told her the cruise was cancelled.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“I called the cruise line. Cancelled the booking. As the purchaser, I have that right. They’re refunding the money to my credit card.” He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Your mother and father will not be going on any cruise tomorrow.”
“Grandpa, you didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did.” He reached over and took my hand carefully, avoiding the IV. “Rebecca, I need to tell you something. Your grandmother, before she passed, she made me promise to watch out for you. Said she worried about how your mother treated you differently than Vanessa.”
I felt tears building. “I thought maybe she was seeing things that weren’t there.”
“Grandmothers can be protective. But over the years, I’ve watched. I’ve seen the patterns. The way your sister gets praised for the same things you get criticized for. The way your accomplishments get dismissed while hers get celebrated. The way you’re always expected to be understanding while she’s allowed to be selfish.”
“It’s just how Mom is,” I said weakly.
“It’s how you’ve let her be. How we all let her be.” He squeezed my hand. “Not anymore. Not after this.”
There was another knock. This time it was Marcus, still in his suit from the conference, carrying flowers and looking frantic. When he saw me, his face crumpled with relief.
“I’m okay,” I said as he kissed my forehead gently. “We’re okay.”
Grandpa stood up. “I’ll give you two some privacy. But Rebecca, before I go, is there anything I should know? Anything else that’s been going on?”
I hesitated. Then I told him about the $4,500 monthly payments. About the nine years of financial support. About how I just cancelled it.
Grandpa’s face went very still. “You’ve been paying their mortgage?”
“And car payment. I set it up when I was 19. They never knew it was me. $4,500 a month for nine years.”
He did the math quickly. “That’s nearly half a million dollars.”
“$486,000,” I confirmed.
Marcus was staring at me. “You never told me.”
“I didn’t tell anyone. I just… they needed help, and I could provide it, so I did.”
Grandpa was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “Did they ever thank you? Ever acknowledge the help?”
“They didn’t know it was me. But they knew their financial situation improved dramatically. They knew they suddenly had extra money every month.”
“Did they ever question it? Ever wonder? Ever think maybe they should be more careful with money that appeared out of nowhere?”