One night, when everyone had gone to sleep, I sat on my bed and stared at my phone for a long time.
Then I called Jun.
“Hijo,” I said softly, afraid of worrying him, “did something happen? Why haven’t I received any of the money you’ve been sending?”
There was a long silence.
Then his voice changed completely.
“What do you mean you haven’t received it? Mom, I send it every single month. Sometimes the bank even calls me to confirm the transfer.”
My heart skipped.
My hands went cold.
If Jun was sending the money…
Then where was it going?
Who was taking it?
The Secret Visit to the Bank
The next morning, I went to the bank in secret.
I didn’t tell my eldest son.
I didn’t tell my daughter-in-law.
I felt ashamed — as if I were doing something wrong by asking questions about my own money.
I asked for a bank statement.
The young teller looked at the screen, frowned slightly, then leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“Ma’am… the money does arrive every month.”
My breath caught.
Then she added:
“But it’s withdrawn shortly afterward… through an ATM.”
My knees weakened.
I had never used an ATM in my life.
I don’t even know how.
“So…” I whispered, “who is withdrawing it?”
The teller hesitated, then asked gently:
“Would you like to see the security footage?”
The Moment the Truth Appeared
When the video started playing on the screen…
My legs gave out.
I collapsed into the chair, trembling.
Because the person standing at the ATM — calmly entering the PIN, withdrawing bundles of cash — was someone I saw every single day.
My daughter-in-law.
She looked relaxed.
Confident.
As if the money belonged to her.
Month after month.
Withdrawal after withdrawal.
I felt something inside me break.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
The Longest Night of My Life
I printed everything.
Bank statements.
Time stamps.
Screenshots.
Security footage.
That night, I called my son and my daughter-in-law to sit at the table.
I placed the folder in front of them.
“This is the money Jun has been sending me… every month… for an entire year,” I said calmly. “But I never received a single peso.”
My eldest son opened the folder.
When he saw the image on the screen…
His face turned pale.
His voice shook.
“Is this true?
Is this you?”
My daughter-in-law collapsed to her knees.
She cried uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry, Mom… I’m sorry…
I got greedy.
I saw how much Jun was sending and thought you were saving it for him… and we were struggling so much…”
Her words hurt more than the theft.
Because this wasn’t about money.
It was about betrayal.
What I Said as a Mother
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