The Hundred Thousand Dollar Price of Freedom

“Dad, my paycheck hit the account this month. Check it.” I said, unknotting my tie. My cousin, Spencer Vance, was sitting on the sofa. When he saw me, a flicker of discomfort crossed his face. He instantly replaced it with an overly enthusiastic grin. “Andre! You’re home late from work, man. That’s rough.” I ignored him, my eyes landing on the coffee table. There was a thin, folded document lying next to a remote control—a printout of my savings account statement. “Dad, is that my savings account statement?” I walked toward it. Robert, my father, fumbled, trying to sweep it away, but he was too slow. I picked it up and flipped to the last page. The current balance read: $3.28. I blinked, thinking the ink must have smeared. I flipped back. The most recent transaction, three days ago: Wire Transfer Out: $105,000.00. The one before that, last month: Wire Transfer Out: $15,000.00. My fingers started to tremble.

1 “Where is my money?” I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. Robert stood up, forcing a nervous laugh. “Andre, listen to your father.” “I asked where my money is!” I roared, the sudden volume making Spencer jump. “$105,000! Plus the fifteen grand last month! Why is there only three dollars left in my down payment fund?” Susan, my mother, also stood. “Andre, don’t get worked up. We were just about to talk to you about this.” “Talk about what? About you wiring away $120,000 without my permission?” I slapped the statement onto the coffee table. “That was my money! It was the entire down payment I’ve saved for ten years of double shifts and no-vacation grind!” Spencer mumbled, “Andre, Aunt Susan and Uncle Rob were just trying to help me out.” “Help you out?” I turned on him. “Spencer, did you use my money to fund your flashy wedding?” Robert grabbed my arm. “Andre, Spencer’s wedding is next month. His fiancée’s family insists on a $150,000 contribution—they said anything less would be embarrassing. We gathered the twenty thousand we had, plus the thirty thousand Spencer has saved, but we were still short a hundred grand…” “So you decided to take mine?” I ripped my arm away. “Dad, that was my money! It was what Sandra and I needed to finally buy our own place and get married!” “You can buy a house later!” Robert shouted back, his voice rising to meet mine. “Spencer’s wedding is a once-in-a-lifetime event! He has no parents, Andre. If we don’t stand up for him, how will he ever hold his head up in front of his new in-laws?” There it was. That sentence. The one I’d been hearing for twenty years. Spencer’s parents died in a car crash when he was seven, and he moved in with us. From then on, my room was his first choice. My new sneakers were to be worn by him first. Half of my birthday presents were his to claim. And now, the decade of my sweat equity, my future, was also his. “What about me?” My voice was shaking, fragile. “My wedding is next month, too. What did you set aside for mycontribution to Sandra’s family?” The living room fell silent. Susan looked down. Robert’s eyes darted away. Spencer cleared his throat. “Andre, Aunt Susan and Uncle Rob did get you something.” “Did they?” I stared him down. “Tell me, Spencer. What magnificent gift did they choose for their actual son?” Robert retrieved a small, cheap plastic department store bag from a drawer in the coffee table. Inside were two generic ties, two cheap dress shirts, and a pack of white socks. “They’re good brands,” he said weakly. I looked at the pathetic plastic bag, then at the transfer statements on the table, and I started to laugh. Tears streamed down my face as I laughed. “So, Spencer’s gift to his bride’s family is $150,000. And mine is two ties and a pair of socks?” “Andre, don’t compare them like that,” Susan pleaded, trying to soothe me. “How else am I supposed to compare them?” I screamed, my voice raw. “Am I supposed to compare who’s the bigger fool? Who spent a decade handing over their entire paycheck only to have their own parents use it to buy status for someone else’s son?” Spencer’s eyes reddened. “Andre, don’t blame Aunt Susan and Uncle Rob. This is my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t get married.” “Spencer, don’t be ridiculous!” Robert immediately pulled him into a hug. “The date is set, the invitations are out! You absolutely must get married!” He turned back to me, his tone suddenly harsh. “Andre, look what you’ve done to Spencer! After we raised you all these years, is this how you repay us? By being so selfish?” “Selfish?” I pointed at myself. “I make seven thousand a month, give you six thousand of it, and keep a thousand for myself. I haven’t bought new clothes in three years or taken a real vacation in five. I work until midnight every day! Every penny I saved, you used to save face for someone else! And I’m the selfish one?” Susan let out a heavy sigh. “Andre, Spencer’s situation is unique. He was orphaned young.” “Just because he was orphaned doesn’t mean I deserve this!” I completely broke down. “I’m your son, too! Don’t I deserve some dignity? Sandra’s family is good, modest people, but what will they think when they see my ‘contribution’ is two ties? What will they think of us?” Spencer sobbed quietly. “Andre, Sandra loves you. She won’t care about the money.” “She might not care, but I do!” I grabbed the transfer statements off the table. “This is proof! I’m calling the police! I’m pressing theft charges!” “Don’t you dare!” Robert lunged for the papers. I sidestepped him, quickly snapping photos of the documents with my phone. “Here are your two options.” I held up my phone. “First, you return my $120,000, every last dime. You can figure out Spencer’s wedding contribution yourselves.” “Second, I call the police immediately, then I forward all of this to the entire family mailing list, your workplaces, and Spencer’s fiancée’s family. I will make sure everyone knows you stole your own son’s entire life savings to buy a gift for your nephew.” Robert’s face was chalk-white. “Andre! You’re trying to destroy us!” “You destroyed me first!” Tears burned in my eyes. “Ten years! How many ten-year spans do I get in my life? I lived like a monk, I worked myself sick, I saved every single penny! Did either of you ever consider my feelings?” Spencer was crying harder now. “The money is already in my account, Andre. Some of it bought jewelry, some was paid to vendors for the venue, and some was withdrawn in cash.” “Then you return it! You sell the jewelry! You unbook the vendors!” I fixed him with a cold stare. “Spencer, if that money isn’t returned today, I will go to your office, I will go to your fiancée’s job, and I will tell everyone that you are a thief!” “Enough!” Susan screamed, a guttural sound. She gasped for breath, her eyes bloodshot. “Andre, we raised you for twenty-eight years. Is this truly how you repay us? By holding a gun to our heads?” “You pointed the gun first.” I wiped my tears away. “Choose. Him, or me.” Robert started to weep openly. “How can you make us choose! Spencer is our son, too!” “He is not!” I yelled until my throat was hoarse. “He’s your brother’s son! I am your flesh and blood!” Susan collapsed back onto the sofa, covering her face with her hands. A prolonged, agonizing silence followed. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall was deafening. Finally, Susan lifted her head. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Spencer’s wedding cannot be ruined. His in-laws are important people. The invitations have all been mailed.” I nodded once, my heart shattering into dust. “Got it. I understand.” I turned and walked to my room, opening the closet and starting to pack. Robert rushed in after me. “Andre! What are you doing!” “I’m moving out.” I threw clothes into my suitcase. “From this moment on, I’m severing all ties with you.” “You’re insane! You are our son!” “You already made your choice moments ago,” I zipped the suitcase shut. “From now on, I am no longer your son. Consider the $120,000 the final, non-refundable payment to settle the twenty-eight years of child-rearing debt.” Susan stood in the doorway, her voice raspy. “Andre, don’t be impulsive. We can talk about the money.” “There’s nothing left to discuss.” I dragged the suitcase toward the door. “My wedding is on the 18th. Don’t bother coming.” At the front door, I looked back at them one last time. Robert was sighing, Susan was weeping, and Spencer was huddled on the couch, watching me from the corner of his eye. “I wish you three all the best.” I closed the door, shutting twenty-eight years of filial obligation behind me. In the descending elevator, I pulled out my phone and called Sandra. It rang once before she picked up. “Andre?” “Sandra,” my voice was shaking. “I’ve moved out. Come get me.” “Send me your location. I’m on my way.” Three minutes later, Sandra’s car screeched to a halt in front of the building. She got out, took the suitcase, and didn’t ask a single question. She just held me, tight. “To our place,” she said. As we drove away, I glanced back at the apartment complex. Goodbye, Andre. The one who always came in second. From today on, I live only for myself. 2 Sandra’s apartment was small—a one-bedroom—but it was spotless and organized. She helped me put away the suitcase and handed me a mug of warm water. “Tell me everything. What happened?” I recounted the story from the beginning. When I got to the part about the two ties, I started to cry again. Sandra embraced me, her voice tight with suppressed fury. “How could they do that? That was ten years of your hard work!” “I want to call the police,” I said. “It’s over a hundred thousand dollars. That’s a felony.” “I’ll support you.” She reached for her phone. “Call them right now.” I stopped her hand. “Wait. Let me think.” “Think about what?” Sandra was agitated. “Andre, this is theft! It’s illegal!” I knew that. But my mind was flooded with images: my mother’s tear-swollen eyes, my father’s defeated posture, and Spencer, seven years old, skinny and small, clinging to a scuffed-up soccer ball the day he arrived. “Give me one day,” I said. “If they don’t return the money by tomorrow, I call the police.” I barely slept that night. My phone kept buzzing. Robert called twenty-three times. Susan called fifteen. I hit ‘ignore’ on every single one. At 3:00 AM, Robert sent a long text: Andre, I know I failed you. But Spencer is truly pathetic—he has no parents. If his wedding contribution is too low, his in-laws will look down on him forever. You are our only child. Please try to understand your mother and me. I promise I will pay the $120,000 back. Just come home first, and we can talk this through. I looked at the message and smiled. The smile turned into tears that tasted both salty and bitter. I replied: Return the money today, or I call the police. Then I shut the phone off. At eight the next morning, the doorbell rang. Sandra opened it to find Susan and Robert standing there. Susan’s eyes were swollen like walnuts; Robert’s hair seemed to have turned half-white overnight. Robert spoke first, already weeping. “Andre, I was wrong. I was so wrong.” “The money?” I asked. Susan took a small envelope from her purse. “Here is three thousand dollars, Andre. It’s all our remaining savings. We will pay the rest back slowly.” “$120,000 turned into $3,000?” I stared at them. “Mom, Dad, do you think I’m an idiot?” “Spencer has already spent the money,” Robert cried. “He bought the wedding bands, paid the catering deposit. It’s physically gone.” “Then you un-spend it! You get it back!” My voice trembled with suppressed violence. “That was my money! You had no right to spend my money!” Susan suddenly knelt down. My fifty-eight-year-old mother was on her knees in front of me. “Andre, I’m begging you. Spencer’s wedding cannot be canceled. His in-laws have already notified all their relatives. If he cancels now, his reputation will be destroyed.” “And mine?” I asked. “My wedding is in less than a month. You gave me two ties. What does that do to my reputation?” Robert sank to his knees beside her. “Andre, I’ll beg, too. Please forgive us this one time. We will make it up to you, I swear.” I looked at my parents kneeling on the floor, and I felt a vicious tear in my chest. These were my parents. Kneeling to beg their own son to enable someone else’s son. “Get up,” I ordered. They didn’t move. “Get up!” I yelled. “You’re doing this to force me! You’re trying to tell me that if I don’t agree, I’m a monster!” Sandra helped them to their feet. “Aunt Susan, Uncle Rob, please. Kneeling won’t solve anything.” Susan stood, tears streaming down her aging face. “Andre, I know we failed you. But since it’s done, please just see it through. Help Spencer. Help us.” “Help?” I nodded. “Fine. I’ll help.” Their eyes lit up with hope. “I’ll help you call the police.” I pulled out my phone. “I’ll let the authorities figure out how to recoup my $120,000.” “No!” Robert lunged to grab the phone. Sandra stepped in front of him. “Uncle Rob, Andre gave you a chance.” Robert crumbled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “How did I raise such a heartless son? We raised you for all these years just to have you destroy us today?” “Heartless?” I squatted down to look him in the eye. “Dad, when I was seven, Spencer stole my new sneakers, and you told me I had to share. When I was twelve, he broke my birthday gift, and you said it was an accident. When I was eighteen, he read my private journal and spread my secrets, and you said he was ‘just curious.’” “Now, he stole $120,000, and you say he’s pathetic and needs my help.” “Tell me, who is the heartless one?” Robert froze, the tears drying up. Susan murmured, “Spencer has no parents. He’s truly pathetic.” “Just because he’s pathetic doesn’t mean I deserve to suffer.” I stood up. “Since you feel so strongly that he deserves your full support, then you should focus entirely on him. I don’t need you.” I walked to the door and opened it. “Please leave. Don’t ever look for me again.” Robert tried to speak, but Susan stopped him. As they reached the door, Susan looked back at me. There was guilt and pain in her gaze, but mostly, there was a profound sense of resignation. They had chosen Spencer. They had been choosing him since he first moved into our house when I was seven. The door closed. I leaned against it and slowly slid down to the floor. Sandra held me. “Andre, let it out. Just cry.” I couldn’t. My heart was already dead. 3 The wedding day: June 18th. My parents didn’t attend, but I had Sandra, our friends, and my coworkers. Sandra’s parents, the true heroes, increased their contribution from a small dowry to a generous $50,000 gift. Sandra’s father said, “Andre, we are your family now.” Wearing a rented tux, I stood on the stage, and my eyes still searched the crowd. I knew it was impossible, but I still hoped they might show up. They did not. Halfway through the reception, I received a text from Susan: Andre, I’m sorry I can’t be there today. Spencer’s wedding had an issue we need to handle. We wish you happiness. I deleted the text, lifted my head, and smiled at Sandra. “I do.” After the wedding, I scrolled through Spencer’s social media. A gallery of nine photos, all from his wedding ceremony. The last one was a family portrait: my parents, dressed in their finest, stood next to Spencer and his new wife, beaming with pride. The caption read: Thanks to Aunt Susan and Uncle Rob for giving me a second life. You are my true parents. Dozens of comments followed, all effusive praise. What wonderful people! Such selfless love! Spencer, you’re so lucky! No one remembered that it was also my wedding day. No one asked where my parents were. Sandra gently took my phone. “Stop looking. We have our own life now.” I nodded, but the hole in my chest felt impossible to patch. After the honeymoon, Sandra and I moved into a small rental. Since my savings were gone, we couldn’t afford a down payment. “It’s fine,” Sandra said. “We’ll save for two more years.” I started working with a vengeance. Day job, evening side gigs, weekend contract work. Sandra tried to stop me. “Andre, don’t push yourself this hard. Your health matters.” “I’m going to earn that $120,000 back,” I told her. “Penny by penny.” Three months later, I’d lost ten pounds, but I’d saved $8,000. I put it on a new bank card. On the card sleeve, I wrote: The Andre Fund. For Thanksgiving, Sandra suggested, “Maybe go see your parents? It’s a holiday.” I shook my head. “That’s not my home.” “But they are still your parents.” “They stopped being my parents the moment they chose Spencer.” Despite the words, in the quiet of the night, I sometimes thought of them. Mom’s pot roast, Dad fixing my bike. But the memory of the $120,000 hardened my heart immediately. On the Monday after Thanksgiving, Robert called from an unknown number. I hadn’t blocked the new one yet. “Andre,” his voice was weak. “Your mother is in the hospital. Heart attack.” My chest tightened, but my voice remained detached. “Oh.” “The doctor says she needs a bypass surgery, which is $50,000. We don’t have the money.” “Where is Spencer?” I asked. “Didn’t he just receive a generous contribution for his wedding?” Silence on the line. “Andre, Spencer put the money into a long-term investment. He can’t access it now.” “Then take out a loan,” I said. “You love helping people. Go ask the people you’ve helped to help you now.” “Andre!” Robert started to cry. “She’s your mother! Are you really going to let her die?” “My mother?” I repeated the word. “When my mother gave my $120,000 to someone else, did she think of her son?” “We were wrong… so wrong…” Robert was sobbing hysterically. “She’s in the ICU right now. The doctor says if she doesn’t get the surgery soon, she’ll…” “That has nothing to do with me.” I hung up. My hand was shaking, but I didn’t cry. Sandra looked at me. “Should we go check on her?” “No,” I said. “If I go, they’ll just say, ‘See, the flesh-and-blood son is still the best,’ and they’ll go right back to favoring Spencer.” Sure enough, the next day, Spencer posted on social media: Aunt Susan is in the hospital. My heart goes out to her. Transferred $1,000 to Uncle Rob. Wishing her a quick recovery. The post included a screenshot of the transfer receipt. Again, a flood of praise: Such a filial nephew! Aunt and Uncle raised him right! I laughed bitterly. The surgery cost $50,000, and he sent $1,000, ensuring he got the public credit for it. A true master of appearances. Three days later, Robert called again. This time, Sandra answered. When she hung up, she said, “Your mother had the surgery. They had to take out a high-interest, predatory loan to pay for it.” “Oh.” “Your dad said Spencer agreed to pay $500 a month toward the debt, but he can’t manage more than that right now.” “I see.” “Andre, are you truly not going to intervene?” “No,” I said. “This was their choice. They have to face the consequences.” 4 By the end of the year, I had saved $25,000. With Sandra’s savings, we finally put a down payment on a small condo. On moving day, Susan and Robert showed up. They stood awkwardly at the door, holding a bag of fruit. “Andre, we heard you bought a house,” Robert mumbled. “I did.” “Do you have enough money? Dad has a little extra if you need it.” “Keep it,” I said. “Save your money for Spencer. Didn’t he just have a child? He must need cash for that.” Robert’s eyes welled up. “Spencer hasn’t really been in touch. That high-interest loan your mother took out—we still owe forty thousand on it.” “Right.” “He promised to send five hundred every month, but he often forgets. Last time, he went three months without paying. When I asked, he said money was tight.” “And how is that my problem?” I asked. Robert started crying. “Andre, I know we were wrong… Our life is hell right now. The debt collectors are hounding us daily.” “You brought this on yourselves.” I shut the door. “Goodbye.” Before the door completely closed, I saw Susan. Her back was more hunched than I remembered. But I didn’t flinch. I had been soft for twenty-eight years. What did it get me? Two ties. For Christmas, Sandra and I went to her parents’ house. At the dinner table, her father handed me a large envelope. “Andre, this is a housewarming gift. You’ll get one every year now.” I cried then. Not because of the money, but because I finally understood what family meant. Family isn’t blood. It’s empathy, respect, and placing you first. On New Year’s Day, Spencer called me out of the blue. “Andre, can you loan me fifteen thousand? My wife’s business venture collapsed. I need capital immediately…” “No.” “How can you be so cold? I’m your cousin!” “My cousin?” I laughed. “Spencer, when you took $120,000 from me, did you remember I was your cousin?” “Aunt Susan and Uncle Rob gave it to me!” “And now I am not giving you a dime.” I hung up. Sandra asked, “Him again?” “Yeah,” I nodded. “Guess $150,000 didn’t buy him a happy ending either.” Two weeks later, Robert showed up at my work. This time, he wasn’t alone. He had a lawyer with him. “Andre, we’re going to sue Spencer,” he said. I was stunned. “Sue him for what?” “For fraud,” Robert said, handing me a stack of papers. “He wasn’t some wealthy man-about-town. His wife’s business was fake. They scammed several families out of their contributions and dowries, and now they’ve run.” I took the documents. Spencer’s wife, the supposed entrepreneur, was a professional con artist. She used the guise of marriage to fleece families, then disappeared with the money. Spencer was also a victim, but the documents showed he was complicit in the scheme. He knew she was a fraud but went along with it to gain access to the funds.