“What are they doing?” she demanded, panic rising. “Travis, tell them to stop!”

“They’re changing every exterior lock on the house,” I said through the porch speaker. “Front door, back door, garage, windows. When they’re done, your key is a useless piece of metal.”

“You can’t do this!” she screamed, banging the glass. “My things are in here! My clothes!”

“Paige is driving Brooke and Jonah to a hotel I just booked. They’ll stay until the house is secure and cleaned. As for your things, I’ve hired a packing service. They’ll arrive in ten minutes, pack your two suitcases, and set them on the front porch.”

“Travis, please!” The rage collapsed into genuine panic. “You can’t treat me like this! I’m your mother! Where am I supposed to go?”

“I booked you a flight back to Chicago. It leaves at four. An Uber will be at the curb in thirty minutes for the airport. Go wait on the porch. If you interfere with the locksmiths, or refuse to leave, I’ll have the police remove you for trespassing — and I’ll show them the video of you endangering a minor and abusing a vulnerable adult.”