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

I won’t hide assets.

I won’t lie for you.”

“Mom, they’ll ruin me.”

“You are already ruined.

Now you have to decide whether you’ll be rebuilt or buried.”

His eyes hardened.

Not fully.

Just enough for me to recognize the old disease.