“Stop!” I shouted, stumbling to my feet, limping to block him—only to be shoved hard to the floor.
My head cracked against the table’s corner, pain shooting through my skull, numbing my limbs.
My daughter and son-in-law didn’t even glance down. They stepped over me, seized Vivienne by the hair, and pummeled her.
“Stop… stop it…” My voice was hoarse. I tried to push myself up, but my body wouldn’t obey.
Through the haze, I saw my wife sobbing—yet smiling faintly.
“Mr. Harry!”
“Vivy!”
Jonas burst through the door, shoving my son aside. His voice was icy. “I’ve uncovered everything. The mortgage Mr. Harry has been paying for thirty years—it’s for the retirement home you bought!”
