Inside were the original company documents, the usufruct agreement, the bank records, the protection clauses, and a letter Kyle signed years ago when he begged me to save him from losing his future before it even began. The letter said, “Without you, Mom, I will have nothing,” and I read it carefully without shedding a single tear because there were none left.
At four in the morning I called my lawyer, Peter Lawson, and told him quietly, “It is time, I want full control of the property again starting tomorrow.” He paused briefly before answering, “If you move forward with this, there will be no way to undo it,” and I replied, “That is exactly what I want.”
The next morning, while they prepared balloons and decorations for my grandson’s birthday, a notary, two court officers, and my lawyer arrived at the front gate of that house.
When I stepped out of the car, the sunlight had begun to break through the clouds, but inside the property cheerful music and forced laughter filled the air. The garden looked perfect with blue and white decorations, a candy table, and a large inflatable castle that belonged in a glossy magazine rather than a real life.