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Jan 24, 2026
MY SON H.I.T ME 30 TIMES IN FRONT OF HIS WIFE… SO THE NEXT MORNING, WHILE HE WAS SITTING IN HIS OFFICE, I SOLD THE HOUSE HE THOUGHT BELONGED TO HIM I counted every single s.lap. One. Two. Three. By the time my son’s hand landed on my face for the thirtieth time, my lip was split, my mouth filled with the taste of bl00d and metal, and whatever denial I still held as a father was gone. He thought he was putting me in my place. His wife, Amber, sat nearby, watching with that quiet, cruel smile people wear when they enjoy someone else being hu/mili/ated. My son believed that youth, anger, and a big house in River Oaks made him powerful. What he didn’t realize was that while he was playing king, I had already decided to take everything back.