My Son Struck Me Thirty Times at His Birthday Dinner. The Next Morning, I Sold the Mansion He Thought He Owned.

“I’m not enjoying it.

I’m finishing it.”

Trevor cursed under his breath.

“Who bought it?”

“That’s not your concern.”

“It is when strangers are standing in my foyer telling my wife we have thirty days.”

“Then you should speak with them politely.”

Kristen’s voice cracked with rage.