My son Grant hurled the heavy turkey platter across the dining table, striking me square in the chest.

“You can’t call the police on me!” Grant screamed, stepping toward Dr. Carter with his fists clenched. “This sale is illegal! My mother is mentally incompetent! She can’t sell this house without my signature!”

Dr. Carter didn't flinch. “Sir, I purchased this home through Denise Mercer and Martin Vance. Mrs. Evelyn Sterling provided a certified, board-sealed medical affidavit from Dr. Bennett confirming her absolute mental competence dated less than a week ago. The title company cleared the funds yesterday morning. You are trespassing on private property. Get out of my house before you leave in handcuffs.”

The HavenCare transport specialists took one look at Dr. Carter, exchanged a glance, and immediately retreated out the front door, abandoning Grant and Paige without a word.

“Grant, we have to go,” Paige whimpered, tugging frantically at his sleeve. “The police are coming! Grant, please!”

Grant looked around the empty room, his face turning an apocalyptic shade of crimson. The realization that his seven-hundred-thousand-dollar lifeline had vanished into thin air shattered his sanity.

He broke away from Paige, stormed out of the house, jumped into his car, and peeled out of the driveway, leaving black rubber streaks across Elm Street.

Twenty minutes later, Grant slammed through the glass double doors of Denise Mercer’s real estate office downtown.

“Where is she?” Grant roared, slamming his palms down onto the receptionist’s mahogany desk, sending pens and paperclips flying. “Where did she go? Denise! Get out here!”

Denise stepped out of her corner office, completely unfazed by his tantrum. Behind her stood two uniformed city police officers who had been taking a statement regarding another matter.

Grant froze, his chest heaving, his tie askew.

“Grant,” Denise said with glacial composure, crossing her arms. “If you don't lower your voice and leave my premises immediately, Officer Higgins here will be delighted to introduce you to a holding cell.”

“You conspired with her!” Grant hissed, lowering his voice to a venomous whisper. “You sold that house behind my back! She’s my mother! That money belongs to the family estate!”