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.”
Ashley appeared in the doorway, her face now pale.
I picked up my phone and called my attorney, Mark Ellison.
When he answered, I put him on speaker.
“Mark,” I said, “I need to revise the trust, remove Ethan as successor trustee, remove him from the company transition plan, and draft a formal notice barring him and Ashley from entering the property without written permission.”
Ethan’s mouth fell open.
“Dad, you can’t be serious.”
I looked at Linda, whose hands were still shaking.
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
Part 3
