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

“But angry people don’t always start with the law.”

“Neither do frightened ones.”

He nodded once, then opened another folder.

“There’s something else you need to see.”

He slid a packet across the table.

At first I thought it was another closing document.

Then I saw the first page.

Bank statements.