Simon Cowell is known for being a tough and brutally honest judge on TV talent shows. He is a producer and the creator of popular shows like *The X Factor* and *America’s Got Talent*, and he has done very well for himself throughout his career. Despite his tough TV persona, Simon Cowell is now a caring father. He has said that none of his $600 million fortune will go to his son, Eric. Instead, he plans to donate all of it to charity.
Simon Cowell is a very successful entertainment business owner, producer, and TV personality, known for judging talent competitions in both the UK and the United States. Now, he can add another role to his list: he is a father. Cowell became a father in 2014, a moment that he says changed him as a person. However, before the birth of his son, Eric, he mentioned in an interview that none of his $600 million fortune would be passed on to his son. He believes that passing down wealth to the next generation is not the right thing to do.
“I’m going to leave my money to someone—probably a charity, like kids and dogs,” Simon Cowell said in 2013. He believes in leaving a legacy instead of just passing down money to his son. Cowell thinks that helping his son develop a successful career is more important than giving him a lot of money.
“The goal is to give people opportunities so they can succeed, and to share your knowledge with them,” he explained. Simon Cowell’s net worth is around $600 million, and he plans to donate all of it to charity. He hasn’t decided which charity yet, but he mentioned it will likely be related to children or dogs.
Simon Cowell is not the only celebrity who has said their money will go to charity instead of their children. Famous TV anchor Anderson Cooper shares similar views. He welcomed his child via surrogacy in 2020 and said, “I don’t believe in passing on huge amounts of money. I’m not that interested in money, but I don’t plan to have a pot of gold for my son. My parents taught me that college will be paid for, and then he needs to get to work.”
One of the world’s richest people, Microsoft founder Bill Gates, has also promised that his children won’t inherit his billions. Most of his wealth, along with that of his ex-wife Melinda Gates, will go to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. This foundation aims to eliminate poverty, hunger, and disease worldwide. Gates explained, “It’s not a favor to kids to give them huge sums of wealth. It can distort their path.”
Other celebrities who also believe in not passing down wealth include Jackie Chan, Mark Zuckerberg, Warren Buffett, Gordon Ramsay, Ashton Kutcher, Mila Kunis, and Sir Elton John. Zuckerberg and his wife said on Facebook, “We have a moral responsibility to all children in the next generation. Our main focuses will be personalized learning, curing disease, connecting people, and building strong communities.”
I GOT A CALL FROM MY MOTHER AND HER FIRST WORDS WERE, “PLEASE, SAVE ME FROM YOUR SON!”
The phone call was a jolt, a cold splash of dread that ripped through the quiet of my afternoon. My mother’s voice, usually a warm, familiar melody, was a panicked whisper, a desperate plea. “Please, come save me from him!” she cried, the line abruptly going dead.
My son, Michael, had volunteered to spend the summer with her, a surprising turn of events. He’d always been a city kid, resistant to the quiet charm of my mother’s small-town life. But this year, he’d insisted, offering to take care of her, to give her caregiver a break.
My mother, fiercely independent despite her disability, refused to leave her house or move into assisted living. Michael’s offer seemed like a win-win, a chance for him to prove his newfound maturity, a break for me.
The first week had been idyllic. Michael was cheerful on the phone, regaling me with stories of fishing trips and local festivals. But a nagging unease had crept in when he consistently deflected my requests to speak with my mother, claiming she was busy or asleep.
Now, this phone call, a desperate cry for help, confirmed my worst fears. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my keys, my heart pounding against my ribs, and sped towards my mother’s town.
The drive was a blur, a frantic race against time. The familiar landmarks of my childhood blurred past, each mile a torturous delay. As I pulled into my mother’s street, a sense of dread settled over me. The house, usually a beacon of warmth and light, stood dark and silent, its paint peeling, its once vibrant garden overgrown and neglected.
I parked the car and rushed to the front door, my hand trembling as I turned the knob. The door creaked open, revealing a scene that made my blood run cold.
The house was a disaster. Furniture was overturned, dust motes danced in the single beam of moonlight filtering through a grimy window, and a strange, acrid smell hung in the air.
“Mom?” I called out, my voice echoing through the silent house. “Michael?”
I moved through the living room, my footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust on the floor. The kitchen was a scene of chaos, dishes piled high in the sink, food rotting on the counter.
Then, I saw her. My mother was slumped in her wheelchair, her head resting on the armrest, her body still.
“Mom!” I cried, rushing to her side. I gently shook her shoulder, and her eyes fluttered open.
“Oh, darling,” she whispered, her voice weak. “He’s gone. He took everything.”
“Who, Mom? Michael?”
She nodded, her eyes filled with fear. “He changed, darling. He… he wasn’t the boy I knew. He became obsessed with… with things. He kept asking about your father’s old coin collection, and your grandmother’s jewelry.”
I helped her sit up, and she continued, “He said he needed to ‘make things right’ and that we were holding him back. He stopped letting the caregiver in, and he wouldn’t let me call you. He said he was taking care of me, but he was just… waiting.”
“Waiting for what, Mom?”
“I don’t know, darling. I woke up this morning, and he was gone. He took the coins, the jewelry, even my old locket. He left me here, alone, in the dark.”
I looked around the ravaged house, the empty spaces where precious heirlooms once sat, and a wave of anger washed over me. Michael, my son, had betrayed my trust, had abandoned his grandmother, had stolen from her.
I called the police, my voice trembling with rage. As I recounted the events of the past few weeks, a sense of disbelief settled over me. How could my son, the boy I had raised with love and care, have turned into this?
The police searched the house, documenting the damage, taking my mother’s statement. They promised to investigate, to find Michael, to bring him to justice.
As I sat beside my mother, holding her frail hand, I knew that the summer had taken a dark turn, a turn that would forever change our lives. I didn’t know what had happened to my son, or what had driven him to this act of betrayal. But I knew that I would find him, and I would make him answer for what he had done.
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