12/25/2025
Every night, my son calls at the exact same time and asks just one question: “Are you alone?” If I say yes, he hangs up immediately. The phone rang at 10:47 PM. “Are you alone?” Albert asked. I lied. “Yes.”
Too quiet. My instincts screamed. Forty years here—I knew every sound. The kitchen handle turned. Locked.
A shadow flickered. Then nothing. On the table: a white envelope. Inside, a photo—my husband, me, baby Albert… and two strangers. The Partnership, 1992. Some debts never expire.
The phone rang again. Blocked. “Your son is hiding a will from you,” a man said.
Full in the first c0mment 👇👇