He stared at the paper. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“One hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars,” I said clearly.

“Mom, this is insane.”

“That is exactly what I saved you over the last three years,” I told him, stepping forward until I was inches from his face. “That is the value of the ‘break’ you forced me to take.”

“I didn’t—”

“You dismissed three years of my life because I did it out of love. You took my labor for granted because it was free. You don’t respect love, Mark. You only respect money. So there is the bill.”

I have never seen a man’s arrogance shatter so violently. The anger completely vanished from his face. The color drained out of his cheeks.

“Mom,” he whispered. His voice cracked.

“I loved raising them,” I said, my voice finally trembling. “I would have done it forever. But you looked at me like I was the hired help you outgrew. You replaced my name.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. Tears welled up in his eyes. Real tears. For the first time since he was a twelve-year-old boy. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“Please don’t leave,” he begged, a tear spilling over his eyelashes.

“You should probably call your boss,” I said quietly. “Tell him you have a childcare emergency.”

I turned around. I walked out the front door. I got into my car and drove away.

I didn’t hear from him for a week.

When he finally showed up at my house, he didn’t bring the kids. He came alone. He sat at my kitchen table and cried for an hour. He apologized for his arrogance. He apologized for the name. He told me he fired Brittany that same day.

I forgave him. Eventually. Because he’s my son.

But things are different now.

I see my grandkids twice a week. I take them to the park. I buy them ice cream. I act like a grandmother.

He pays a different nanny twenty-five dollars an hour to do the heavy lifting. And nobody, absolutely nobody, calls her Nana.