For 5 years, I – a single mother, brushed everywhere to raise three small children, and finally accepted a job as a maid for a wealthy family in the city. The hostess was suspicious, worried about every bite of food, every drop of water, and the boss was quiet and silent. I gritted my teeth and endured, as long as I had money to send to my hometown.
The day my ex-husband fell ill and my three small children were hungry, I decided to take a break to go back to my hometown to take care of them. On the last night, when I finished cleaning, the boss quietly called me into his own room, pushed a thick stack of money into my hand, and said in a hoarse voice:
– “Take this, consider it an extra salary… Go back to my province to take care of my children.”
I stood up and knelt down to thank. When he arrived at the bus station, he saw her again, carrying a heavy bag, waving her hand as if to see her relatives. I was moved to tears.
Less than 30 minutes after the car had turned around, the phone rang. On the other end of the line, the hostess’s voice shouted:
– “Give it back to me immediately! That money is family money, don’t think it’s easy to eat!”
I was shaking, sweating profusely, hugging my bag tightly, and before I could think of what to do, tears continued to flow.
To be honest, I arrived in my province with a scattered mood. When I put my back on the rickety bamboo bed for less than 5 minutes, the phone vibrated again. A short message from a strange number left me in shock:
👉“Sister, I am the boss’s son. The money my father gave me… It wasn’t my mother’s money. That was the part she saved and left it to the last person to take care of her father. “You know, you’re in the hospital, you won’t survive…”
I was stunned, my heart was pounding, the bill in my hand suddenly felt like a sharp thorn piercing my flesh…