Part 2: My son h.i.t me 30 times in front of his wife… so the next morning, while he sat in his office, I sold the house he thought was his.

I laughed bitterly.

They wanted to make me seem incapable of controlling my money.

Then provoke me into making a dramatic decision.

Then use that decision as proof that I was unstable.

The pieces fit together with horrifying precision.

I looked at Grant.

"Did they expect me to sell the house?"

She hesitated.

"We don't know exactly what they expected. But the communications suggest they anticipated a confrontation."

I closed my eyes.

Trevor's fists.

Kristen's silence.

The bruises.

The humiliation.

Had Malcolm known my son might hurt me?

Had Daniel?

And if they had, why hadn't anyone stopped him?

***

That evening, Trevor called.

His voice sounded different.

Quieter.

"Mother."

I stared at the phone.

"What do you want?"

For several seconds, he didn't answer.

Then he whispered, "Kristen left."

My stomach tightened.

"What?"

"She took the children to her parents."

I closed my eyes.

Trevor had two children.

Seven-year-old Lily.