about.”
“You should read what you signed,” I said.
“I know what I signed,” he shot back.
“No,” I said. “You thought you did.”
Silence again.
For once, he had no control.
“I’ll deal with this,” he said finally. “Just stay out of it.”
“Too late,” I said.
Then I hung up.
I knew what came next.
Confusion.
Panic.
Anger.
Richard didn’t process losing control quietly.
He escalated.
That evening, I returned to the house.
All four of them were waiting in the living room.
Richard paced near the center,
