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Any mother would have fallen into despair. Any mother would have cried, screamed, torn her hair out.
But I… I started laughing.
I laughed so hard that I had to sit down on the leather couch so I wouldn’t fall over. I laughed because my son, my “brilliant” lawyer son, had just made the biggest mistake of his life.
He thought he had sold my apartment. He thought he had ruined me. But what he didn’t know, what his ambition blinded him from seeing, was that the property hid a legal secret I had prepared ten years ago, precisely for a day like this.
To understand why I laughed at my own son’s betrayal, I need to go back in time a little.
My name is Margot. I’m 64, and I built my fortune with sweat, tears, and flour. A lot of flour.
My late husband, Patrick, and I started with a small bakery in a humble neighborhood. We worked every day of the week. No vacations. No holidays. My hands, now carefully manicured, spent years burned by ovens and dried from hard work.
The bakery grew into two, then into a chain of supermarkets. When Patrick passed twelve years ago, I sold the supermarkets and invested everything in real estate and investment funds.