PART 3
There was something almost frightening about that.
But underneath the fear was a strange peace.
Switzerland had been Rebecca’s suggestion years ago.
Not directly.
Rebecca had once said during a conversation, “Mom, if I were your age, I’d travel somewhere beautiful. Somewhere nobody knows you.”
Julieta had laughed at the time.
Now she had taken the advice.
She had rented a small furnished apartment overlooking part of Lake Geneva.
It wasn’t a mansion.
It wasn’t luxurious.
There were no marble floors.
No private driver.
No expensive resort.
Just a quiet apartment with large windows, a little balcony, a kitchen, and enough space for one woman to breathe.
When Julieta arrived, she unpacked slowly.
Three dresses.
Two sweaters.
A coat.
Her nursing certificates.
A small photograph of Rebecca as a child.
And a photograph of the twins.
She stared at those two pictures for nearly ten minutes.
Then she placed them inside a drawer.
Not because she stopped loving them.
Because she needed to learn how to love people without destroying herself in the process.
Back in America, Rebecca had no idea her mother had landed.
She was too busy getting ready for her birthday weekend.
At first, everything seemed normal.
Until Monday morning.
Rebecca stood in her kitchen making coffee when her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen.
AUTOMATIC PAYMENT FAILED.
She frowned.
She tried again.
Same message.
“That’s weird.”
She opened her banking app.
Her mother’s name was nowhere on the account.
Rebecca frowned harder.
She called the bank.
After several minutes of verification, the representative said, “It appears the joint account was closed.”
Rebecca froze.
“What?”
“The account was closed three business days ago.”
“Who closed it?”
The representative hesitated.
“An authorized account holder.”
Rebecca didn’t need to ask.
She hung up.
Then she called her mother.
Straight to voicemail.
“Mom?”
No answer.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Rebecca rolled her eyes.
“This is ridiculous.”
She sent a text.
Mom, call me.
Five minutes passed.
Nothing.
She sent another.
I know you’re upset. But we need to talk.
Still nothing.
Then she noticed something strange.
The little green dot beside her mother’s contact was gone.
Rebecca had never thought about that dot before.
Now she couldn’t stop staring at it.
She called again.
Voicemail.
“Mom, seriously. Pick up.”
Nothing.
Rebecca put the phone down.
She convinced herself it was just another one of her mother’s dramatic reactions.
“She’ll calm down,” she muttered.
She always had.
That was what Rebecca believed.
Her mother always came back.
She always apologized first.
She always brought something.
Food.
Money.
A gift.
A solution.
Even when Rebecca was the one who had been cruel.
Especially then.
But Tuesday brought another problem.
Rebecca received an email from the mortgage company.
She opened it casually.
Then stopped breathing.
PAYMENT NOT RECEIVED.
She read it twice.
Then three times.
She immediately called her mother.
No answer.
“Mom, this isn’t funny.”
Nothing.
She opened her financial records.
For years, the mortgage payment had been handled through an account Julieta controlled.
Rebecca knew that.
She simply never thought about it.
Why would she?
Her mother had always said the same thing.
“Don’t worry about it.”
So Rebecca hadn’t worried.
Now the mortgage company was telling her that the payment was overdue.
She called the bank again.
This time, she was less patient.
“Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
The representative explained that the automatic transfer had been canceled.
“By whom?”
“By the account holder.”
Rebecca’s voice became sharper.
“My mother?”
The representative couldn’t confirm private information beyond what was allowed.
But Rebecca already knew.
She hung up.
Her husband, Daniel, walked into the kitchen.
“What happened?”
Rebecca stared at him.
“Mom canceled the mortgage payment.”
Daniel stopped.
“What?”
“She canceled everything.”
He stared at her.
“For real?”
“I think so.”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“Maybe you should call her.”
“I’ve called her ten times.”
“And?”
“She isn’t answering.”
Daniel slowly sat down.
“How much did she pay every month?”
Rebecca didn’t answer.
Daniel asked again.
“Rebecca?”
She finally whispered the amount.
Daniel’s face changed.
“You never told me she was still paying that.”
Rebecca looked away.
“She wanted to.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Silence.
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“So your mother has been paying part of the mortgage this whole time?”
“She helped.”
“How much?”
Rebecca didn’t answer.
That silence told him enough.
