My Daughter Tried To Institutionalize Me To Steal My Life Savings. Little Does She Know, I Secretly Own The Mansion She Lives In. Who Is Getting Evicted Now?
Rewriting History
Michael sat in the armchair across from us.
“So, Dad, how is the house holding up? Any more issues with the stove?”
I looked at him. There had never been issues with the stove.
“The stove?”
I repeated blankly.
“Yeah,”
Michael said, leaning forward.
“Sarah said you left the gas on again last week. The neighbors smelled it. It is getting dangerous, Joseph.”
He was inventing history. Rewrite the past to control the future.
“I don’t think I did that,”
I said softly.
“You did, Dad,”
Sarah chimed in.
“You just don’t remember. That is what scares us. You don’t remember the dangerous things you do.”
Dr. Aris was writing furiously now. I could see the satisfaction on their faces. They thought it was working. They thought the old man was cracking.
“So, Joseph,”
Dr. Aris said, looking up.
“Do you manage your own bills? It must be complicated keeping track of everything.”
“It is overwhelming sometimes,”
I admitted, letting my shoulders slump.
“So much paperwork.”
“Maybe it is time you let someone help you with that,”
Michael suggested. His voice was like a coiled snake.
“Just to take the burden off.”
“We can talk about that later,”
Sarah said quickly, cutting him off.
“Let’s have dinner.”
We moved to the dining room. The table was set with their finest china. I was placed at the end, separate from the conversation. They talked over me about their vacations, about Michael’s business ventures, about Mia’s college applications. I ate my soup in silence, letting the spoon clatter against the bowl occasionally.
Then my granddaughter Mia spoke up. She was 17, glued to her phone, but she looked up at me with a strange expression. Pity, maybe, or guilt.
“Grandpa,”
She said.
“Are you excited about moving to Green Fields?”
The Secret Revealed
The room went dead silent. The fork froze halfway to my mouth. Green Fields. I knew that place. It was a state-run nursing home on the other side of the city. It had been cited for health violations three times in the last 5 years. It was a warehouse for the indigent and the forgotten. It was a place people went to die.
“Mia!”
Sarah hissed.
“Not now.”
“What is Green Fields?”
I asked, looking around the table with wide, confused eyes.
“It is… It is a resort, Dad,”
Michael lied smoothly.
“A retirement community. We were just looking at brochures, very high-end, just thinking about options for the future.”
“No,”
Mia said, her voice rising.
“You said he was going there tonight. You said Dr. Aris was going to sign the paper and that is enough.”
“Mia!”
Michael shouted, slamming his hand on the table.
“Go to your room. Now.”
Mia stood up, threw her napkin on her plate, and stormed off. The silence she left behind was thick and heavy. I looked at Sarah. She refused to meet my eyes. She was pouring more wine into her glass, her hand shaking slightly.
“Is that true, Sarah?”
I asked, my voice trembling for real this time.
“Are you sending me away?”
“Dad, don’t get upset,”
Sarah said. Her voice was tight.
“Mia is confused. We just want you to be safe. You are not safe in that old house alone. You need care.”
“I need my home,”
I said.
“Your home is falling apart,”
Michael snapped, dropping the facade of kindness.
“You are hoarding trash. You are a fire hazard. It is irresponsible of us to let you stay there.”
I looked at Dr. Aris. He was watching me closely, waiting for an outburst, waiting for the dementia to show its violent side. I swallowed my rage. I forced it down into the pit of my stomach.
“I just want to finish my dinner,”
I said softly, looking down at my plate.
“Good,”
Michael said.
“Eat up. We have some papers to look at after dessert.”
