Chapter 2

“What about the children’s details, such as what city they live in, where they work, and how much they make a month? Do you need all that too?” I probed.

The lady's smile froze for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, that part is totally optional. It's just that some seniors have kids living out of state, so we like to keep tabs to offer extra support if they need it. Don't worry about it. You can just fill out the basics for now. No rush.”

I scribbled down a fake name and a bogus cell number, thanked her, and headed home clutching the free pack of pasta they'd given out.

That night, I took the photos I'd snapped during the day, organized my notes into a list of red flags, and typed up a massive text to the family group chat.

[Chloe, Leo, take a look at this. I checked out the Caring Hearts Center today and found some major red flags. I think you guys should warn anyone you know who has elderly parents. Tell them not to sign up.]

I hit send and waited.

Ten minutes crawled by before Leo finally replied with a [?].

…

Chloe sent a voice note instead of texting.

I tapped it. Her voice blared through the speaker, thick with pure irritation. “Mom, you're retired. You're not a detective anymore. Can you please stop being so paranoid all the time?”

My fingers hovered over the keyboard to explain.

Leo texted. [Mom, stop looking for drama.]

[I am trying to protect people. This organization is sketchy. I spent my entire career in law enforcement. I know exactly what kind of people use ‘free gifts’ to prey on vulnerable seniors.]

After that last text, the chat went dead for about three minutes.

Then, a notification flashed on my screen: ‘Chloe has left the group.’

A second later, a direct message from Leo popped up.

[Mom, you drove Chloe away again. The last time she quit the group chat was because you kept spamming those anti-scam links. Can you just mind your own business? Seriously, now I have to spend all next week convincing her to join back.]

I stared at the ‘Chloe has left the group’ notification, my throat tight.

Was I really just suffering from an occupational hazard?

The next afternoon, my phone rang.

“Hi, is this Helen Parker? I'm calling from the Caring Hearts Center. Your daughter registered your contact info with us recently. Do you remember?”

It was a young woman's voice.

I hadn't expected them to reach out so fast.

“Yes, that’s me. What is this about?”

“Well, Mrs. Parker, our center just launched a Care and Support Initiative. For only a dollar a day, a professional care companion will visit your home. They check your blood pressure, keep you company, and perform safety sweeps around the house to prevent accidents.”

The young woman lowered her voice, taking on a warm, confidential tone, and continued, “Just one dollar a day. That's only three hundred and sixty-five dollars a year, which is a fraction of what a home health aide costs.”

“Only a dollar a day?” I prompted, playing along.

“Exactly. A dollar a day for total peace of mind. You live alone, right? If you slip, fall, or suddenly feel sick, there's no one there to help you. That's incredibly dangerous. With our companions checking in every single day, you can relax, and your children won't have to worry either.”

My fingers tightened around the phone. They knew exactly where to twist the knife. That pitch was engineered to strike terror into the heart of every single senior living alone.

The ultimate nightmare. Dying silently in an empty house, undiscovered for days until their children found them. Alongside that fear was the crushing guilt of becoming a burden to their children.

I forced hesitation into my voice before saying, “I... I need to think about it.”

I hung up, sank into the couch, and began to meticulously dissect every single word of the conversation in my head.