Claire, stumbled onto the porch barefoot, clutching a suitcase with one hand and six-year-old Noah with the other. Lily followed, soaked instantly, hugging her school backpack to her chest.
Claire saw me and broke.
“He threw us out,” she sobbed. “Daniel said Vanessa is moving in tonight.”
Behind them stood my son.
Daniel wore the expensive watch I had given him when he made partner. Beside him was Vanessa, his twenty-nine-year-old mistress, wrapped in Claire’s cream-colored robe like she already owned the place.
Daniel’s face hardened when he saw me.
“Mom, stay out of this.”
Vanessa smiled. “This is between adults.”
I looked at my grandchildren shivering in the rain.
Then I looked at the house.
My house.
Daniel had forgotten one small detail: years earlier, when his business nearly collapsed, I had bought the property to stop the bank from taking it. I let him live there, rent-free, because