I watched through the living room window as they sprinted up the concrete walkway, their faces flushed with eager anticipation and sudden desperation 
. These were the same men who had dismissed their own father as a poor man not even two weeks prior.
I opened the front door slowly, standing tall in the entryway as they tried to push their way inside with fake, warm smiles 
. Lucas immediately reached out to hug me, while Mark began babbling about how miscommunications and busy work schedules had kept them away from the funeral.
“Mom, we were just so overwhelmed with work and stress,” Mark stammered, his eyes darting toward the study where Robert’s papers were kept 
. “We never meant to abandon you, we just thought the creditors were going to seize everything!”
“We came to check on you and make sure you’re taken care of,” Lucas chimed in, offering a practiced, gentle tone 
. “We heard about the trust, and we want to help you manage all that complicated paperwork.”
I stepped back, holding up a single hand to stop them in their tracks before they could take another step inside 
. The atmosphere in the hallway turned ice-cold as they realized I was not offering them a motherly welcome.
“You didn’t come to check on me when you thought I was broke,” I said, my voice steady and completely devoid of affection 
. “You didn’t have time to honor your father when you thought he died with nothing.”..
