Suzanne froze. Cheryl’s mouth opened. Philip flushed purple with the shock of being addressed like a man who had forfeited courtesy. Wendy had never heard anyone speak to her father that way. Not because he was powerful in any universal sense, but because families protect their own tyrants by insisting on etiquette even when ethics have already left the room.
Mitchell pulled out his phone and made a call.
“Marcus,” he said, voice level, “it’s Mitchell. I need the occupancy agreement on Oak Street terminated today under clause four. Breach through dependent abuse. Yes. I want service initiated now. If they refuse cooperation, send the marshals.”
Suzanne gave a short uncertain laugh. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Mitchell finally looked at her. “This property.”
Her smile faltered. “This is our house.”
“No,” he said. “It’s mine.”
The sentence hit the air like a dropped weight.
Philip barked a laugh that came out thinner than intended. “You’re out of your mind.”