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.

And ten-year-old Mason.

I loved them fiercely.

Whatever their parents had done, I didn't want the children pulled into the middle of it.

"Are they safe?"

"Yes."

I exhaled.

Then Trevor said something unexpected.

"Malcolm told me you were going to sell Cedarline without leaving me anything."

I stared at the wall.

"He lied."

Trevor began crying.

"I know that now."

I said nothing.

He continued.

"He told me Dad had promised him the company."

My throat tightened.

"Your father wanted you to learn how to run it."

Trevor's voice broke.

"I thought you were punishing me."

I closed my eyes.

"Trevor, I gave you a home. A job. Every opportunity I could afford."

He began sobbing.

"And when I told you no, you hit me."

A long silence followed.

Finally, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

I stared at the bruises on my arm.

For forty-four years, I'd wanted to hear my son apologize whenever he made a mistake.