Margaret was looking forward to a quiet evening at home with her husband, Stephen. They had met in their university years, and from the start, her father, Robert, hadn’t approved of the relationship.
His disapproval wasn’t rooted in any specific misdeed of Stephen’s—it was simply his instinct to mistrust people, especially after he had spent years building his company, Kingsley Enterprises, and accumulating substantial wealth. That cautious nature, however, had been forged long before his success.
Robert’s distrust of others had begun the day Margaret’s mother, Lorraine, walked out on their family and never returned.
Margaret could recall that moment with startling clarity even decades later.
She had been only five years old, but the memory was etched into her mind—the constant arguments between her parents, the raised voices behind closed doors, the heavy tension that seemed to fill their home.
One evening, after yet another shouting match, Lorraine had slammed the door and left. She hadn’t come back.
At the time, Robert had been working three separate jobs just to keep a roof over their heads. The company that would one day make him wealthy and respected wouldn’t be founded until years later. Those early days were a struggle, but Robert had persevered, raising Margaret on his own without any help from Lorraine.
Eventually, Robert came to accept Stephen and even grew to respect him deeply. One particular moment had cemented that respect: Robert had offered Stephen a position at Kingsley Enterprises, but Stephen had politely declined, choosing instead to pursue his own career path in a field he was passionate about.
Robert valued that independence and ambition. Margaret, on the other hand, did work for her father’s company—but it was because she had earned the role, not simply because she was his daughter. She worked hard, and Robert knew it.
That evening, Margaret was driving home from the office, thinking about the dinner she would prepare and how she would share the details of her day with Stephen. But as she walked up to her front door, something unusual caught her eye: a small yellow post-it note stuck to it.
Please, call me. Love, Mom.
A phone number was scrawled underneath.
Margaret froze. Her mother had not reached out to her in decades—not for birthdays, not for graduations, not even when she got married. Why now? What could Lorraine possibly want after all these years? Was she in trouble? Did she need money? Margaret’s mind spun with questions, but she knew she wouldn’t have any answers unless she made the call.
So she did.
“Hello, darling!” Lorraine exclaimed brightly the next day when Margaret walked into the restaurant they had agreed to meet at.
Margaret had hesitated before dialing the number, but curiosity had outweighed her reservations. Now, sitting across from this woman, she felt uneasy. Lorraine was technically her mother, but in every meaningful way, she was a stranger.
“Hi… Mom,” Margaret said awkwardly as she took her seat.
“If you don’t feel comfortable calling me that, it’s alright. You can just call me Lorraine for now,” the older woman said with a warm smile, gesturing for Margaret to sit. “Thank you for calling me back. I’ve been longing to catch up with you.”
“Let’s get to the point, Lorraine,” Margaret replied, her tone clipped. “Why did you contact me? The last time I saw you, I was five years old. What do you want?”
“I wanted to tell you the truth about what happened,” Lorraine said, folding her hands on the table. “It was all your father’s doing…”
Lorraine claimed that she had tried to see Margaret a few years after leaving, but Robert had refused to let her. She said he told her to stay away, believing it was best for Margaret. According to her, he had been unreasonably controlling. She insisted she had respected his decision back then, but she had never stopped thinking about her daughter. Recently, she had managed to track down Margaret’s address and decided to reach out.
“I don’t understand,” Margaret said, her suspicion plain. “If you really wanted to find me, you had plenty of opportunities over the years. Why now? Do you need money?”
“No, absolutely not,” Lorraine replied quickly. “I’m married to a wealthy man now. And look—lunch today is on me. I have no interest in your father’s money or yours. I just… I’ve realized what really matters in life, and it’s not too late to make things right. At least, I hope it’s not too late.”
Margaret paused for a long moment before answering. “No… it’s not too late. Tell me about yourself.”
From there, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. They spoke for hours, and Lorraine ordered generously—appetizers, entrees, desserts, and even the most expensive wine on the menu. Margaret watched her carefully, noting that if Lorraine was pretending not to need money, she was doing a convincing job.
Still, when the lunch ended and Margaret drove away, her emotions boiled over. If what Lorraine said was true, then her father had kept them apart for decades. She could understand him being protective when she was a child, but once she became an adult, that decision should have been hers to make.
Instead of going home, she drove straight to Robert’s house.
“How could you keep her away from me for all these years, Dad?” she demanded as soon as she stepped inside. “That wasn’t fair! She wanted to make amends. I should’ve been the one to decide whether or not to see her. We lost so much time!”
“She didn’t, Margaret,” Robert said firmly. “She’s lying to you.”
“No, you’re lying!”
Robert exhaled heavily, placing his hands on his hips. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but come with me.”
He led her to his office, sat down at his desk, and began clicking through some files on his computer.
“What is this?” Margaret asked, wiping away the tears that had already begun to gather.
“I’ve been protecting you from this for years,” Robert said quietly. “But you’re right. You’re old enough now to know the truth.”
He opened a video file. It showed a much younger Robert and Lorraine standing in their old living room, locked in a heated argument. The footage was from the mid-2000s, when Margaret had been a teenager. Lorraine’s voice was sharp and cutting as she threatened to take Margaret away from him through the courts. Finally, Robert handed her a wad of cash. Lorraine’s expression shifted instantly—she smiled in smug satisfaction before walking out the door.
Robert clicked on another video—different day, same pattern. Lorraine would arrive, argue, threaten, accept money, and leave.
“I didn’t record the first time she did this,” Robert explained. “But my lawyer suggested it, so I installed cameras in the house just in case she came back. She always came back. Every time, it was about money.”
Margaret stared at the screen, struggling to reconcile this image of her mother with the woman she had just had lunch with.
“But what if she’s really changed?” Margaret asked. “She paid for lunch, so maybe it’s true she’s married to someone wealthy now.”
Robert’s expression softened with sympathy. “Sweetheart… this video was taken yesterday. I assume she left you that note right after this.”
On the screen, Lorraine—wearing the exact same outfit from the day before—was in Robert’s home again, demanding money.
“But why give her anything? I’m an adult now. She can’t take me away.”
“I didn’t want her to cause trouble in your life, or Stephen’s. She’s toxic, Margaret. I wanted her gone, and I would have kept paying her if that’s what it took to protect you.” His voice was steady, but the love in his eyes was unmistakable.
Margaret’s anger began to fade, replaced by a deep, painful understanding. “No, Dad. This stops now. I’ll handle it.”
Two days later, Margaret called Lorraine.
“Darling! I’m so glad you called again,” Lorraine said warmly. “I loved our lunch the other day. Have you thought about what I said? Are you ready to forgive me?”
“Of course, Mom,” Margaret said evenly. Lorraine’s face lit up at the sound of the word “Mom.”
“That makes me so happy!”
“But today,” Margaret continued, “lunch is on me. You can order whatever you want.”
Lorraine did not hesitate. She ordered lobster, caviar, multiple appetizers, rich desserts, and two bottles of the most expensive wine on the menu. Margaret knew that Lorraine was well aware she worked for Kingsley Enterprises.
Two hours later, after they had eaten nearly everything, Lorraine excused herself to the restroom. “I’ll be right back, sweetie. You go ahead and order the check, and then maybe we can do something fun together.”
Margaret nodded. She ordered the check, placed a post-it note on top, and handed it to the waiter.
“She’ll take care of it when she comes back,” she told him.
When Lorraine returned, she saw the note before she saw the bill.
I enjoyed lunch, you shrew. Good luck paying for it.
Her mouth fell open as she looked wildly around the restaurant.
Margaret never saw her mother again. Later, she heard through a mutual acquaintance that Lorraine had caused a loud scene when she realized she couldn’t pay her bill.
