His chest heaved. He had overplayed his hand — tried to steal everything, and lost his only lifeline.

“You can’t do this to me,” he hissed, tears of genuine rage pooling. “I have nothing! The business is gone! I’m bankrupt!”

“Then you’ll have to learn how to survive on your own,” I said, turning my back on him. “Because the mother who lived to rescue you died the moment she heard you laughing about her grave.”

I walked toward the door.

“Mom!” he screamed, raw and desperate. “You can’t just walk away! Mom!”

I didn’t turn back. I walked out of Room 412, the heavy door swinging shut behind me, severing the cord between us forever.