I felt a surge of anger and determination as I dialed the number. I called an old friend, Michael, who had been a lawyer for many years, specializing in family law and elder abuse cases. I explained the situation in a few terse sentences, my voice shaking with a mixture of rage and desperation. Michael was quick to grasp the gravity of the situation and promised to help immediately.
While I was on the phone, Colin’s wife tried to intervene, pleading with me to calm down and discuss things rationally. But there was no reasoning with the firestorm of emotions that had overtaken me. My mother, the woman who had sacrificed everything for us, was being treated like a prisoner in her own home — a home I had worked so hard to provide for her.
As I hung up the phone, I turned to Colin, who was now sweating profusely, a look of panic etched across his face. “You have until tomorrow to get your affairs in order. Michael will be here first thing in the morning, and you will face the consequences of your actions.”
