“My fault,” she screamed, her voice bouncing off the tall vaulted ceiling. “You are supposed to be the patriarch of this family. You are the one who signed the deed of our home over to some shadow lending firm so your precious son could pretend to be a corporate executive. You lost our home because you are a weak gambler who never even bothered to read the loan documents.”
Gregory stepped forward with clenched fists and a neck stiff with anger.
“I did it because you demanded it,” he roared. “You could not tolerate the idea of Logan failing in front of your friends at the country club. You needed him to become a billionaire so you could brag about it at every luncheon. You pushed him. You spoiled him. You turned him into a criminal because nothing was ever enough for you.”
My mother raised her hand and slapped him across the face with a crack that echoed through the massive bedroom.