Page 4 — “You’re Confused.” The Oldest Con In The Book
Max stood up like he was a disappointed manager addressing a failing employee.
“Mom, the bank told us you blocked the transfers. Why?”
I didn’t answer that question.
I asked mine.
“Why wasn’t I invited to your wedding?”
Lena rolled her eyes like I’d brought up a minor inconvenience.
“Oh my God, you’re still on that?”
Max exhaled dramatically. “Mom, you’re being irrational. Cutting us off financially like this… it’s not normal. We think you’re confused.”
Confused.
It’s the word people use when they want to take something from you and need a moral excuse.
The lawyer cleared his throat.
“If you insist on continuing this erratic pattern,” he said, “your family can petition for a competency evaluation. A guardian could be appointed to manage your finances.”
There it was.
Not love. Not concern.
A threat.
Lena leaned in with fake tears. “Renata, everything you have will be ours one day anyway. We’re just trying to make sure it’s not wasted.”
They weren’t even hiding it now.
I stared at them—at the entitlement, the arrogance, the assumption that my life was just a waiting room for their inheritance.
Then I pointed to the door.
“You have thirty seconds to leave,” I said. “Or I call the police for trespassing.”
They left, furious.
But I knew what was next.
People who try to steal your money don’t stop when you say no.
They try to build paperwork that makes your “no” irrelevant.
Keep reading—because they did exactly that… and they made one critical mistake: they underestimated how organized a ‘confused’ woman can be.
