A Week Ago, My House Was Robbed — Today, My Son (Who Doesn’t Have a Job) Bought Himself a Sports Car

He walked over to the sports car and climbed into the driver’s seat. My jaw dropped.

My mind raced with possibilities as I headed home, each more impossible than the last. When I got inside, Jake was leaning against the kitchen counter, twirling the keys to the sports car parked in my driveway like they were nothing.

“Where did you get that car?” I demanded, barely able to keep my voice steady.

He glanced up, shrugging. “Oh, that? It’s nothing, Mom. I’ve got a new job.”

“A job?” I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Doing what? You’ve never held down a job in your life, Jake.”

Jake rolled his eyes, pushing past me to grab a soda from the fridge. “I’m not doing some minimum-wage labor if that’s what you’re asking. It’s legit.”

“Legit?” I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up.

His jaw tightened. “I’m not stealing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, really? So where did you get the money for the car then? Or do you expect me to believe you just… stumbled into it?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he snapped. “You wouldn’t get it anyway.”

My chest constricted. There was no way around it now. The horrible suspicion that had been gnawing at me since the robbery suddenly had teeth.

“You didn’t… take my money, did you?”

He turned on me so fast. “How could you even ask me that? I can’t believe you’d think that of me. I’ve done nothing but try to make things better, and this is what I get?”