My Son Struck Me Thirty Times at His Birthday Dinner. The Next Morning, I Sold the Mansion He Thought He Owned.
“That’s how most collapses begin.”
“I thought I could fix it.”
“With two million dollars from people like Lyle Voss?”
His eyes widened.
“You met Voss?”
“He came here.”
Fear crossed his face so quickly it stripped him bare.
“What did he say?”