Ashley lifted her chin. “Someone has to think ahead.”
I turned to Ethan. “And you told your mother to leave?”
He looked away. “I told her to cool off.”
“She was outside the gate with her medication in a grocery bag.”
He said nothing.
That silence said more than any confession could.
I walked into my study. Ethan followed, suddenly nervous. He knew that room held every important paper I had ever signed.
“Dad,” he said, “don’t overreact.”
I opened the safe.
Inside were the deed, the trust papers, our wills, insurance documents, and the business files for the hardware company I had built and once planned to hand to Ethan someday.
Someday.
Not anymore.
I placed the folder on the desk and looked at him.
“This house does not belong to you,” I said. “It belongs to your mother and me. The company does not belong to you either. Neither do our savings, our retirement, or the future you and Ashley apparently already spent.”
