Part 2: My son h.i.t me 30 times in front of his wife… so the next morning, while he sat in his office, I sold the house he thought was his.

He nodded.

“Malcolm said you changed it.”

I stared at him.

“What?”

Trevor looked up.

“He said Dad intended Cedarline to pass to me. That you’d been keeping it for yourself.”

I felt sick.

For almost two decades, someone had been feeding my son a story about betrayal.

And Trevor had turned that story into entitlement.

I stepped closer.

“Your father wanted you to be happy.”

Trevor’s eyes filled.

“But he also wanted you to become someone who could be trusted with responsibility.”

My voice broke.

“He would never have wanted you to hurt me.”

For one second, Trevor looked ashamed.

Then he said something that shattered whatever tenderness remained.

“If you’d given me the company when I asked, none of this would have happened.”

I stared at him.

And finally understood.

Malcolm might have manipulated Trevor.

Kristen might have encouraged him.

But my son was still choosing to blame me for what he’d done.