“Did he do something wrong?”
Sal hesitated for several seconds before answering. When he finally spoke, he sounded less angry than genuinely uncertain about how to explain what had been happening.
“I honestly don’t know how to answer that.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?”
Another pause followed.
“Do you know what your son does with every paycheck?”
I told him Evan had been saving for a bicycle and that washing dishes was supposed to be how he earned the money himself. Sal released a slow breath before saying the words that immediately made my hands go cold.
“Ma’am, you should sit down. Everything that boy has told you about the money is a lie.”
For a moment, I could barely process what he had said. The missing bike, the cash in Evan’s bedroom, the muddy clothes, and the months of hearing “almost there” suddenly seemed to confirm every terrible suspicion I had tried to dismiss.
