At my in-laws’ house, I found my son locked in the guest room after two days, and when my father-in-law blocked the hallway saying I had no rights, I made one call, showed one document, and watched his power disappear.

My son was behind the guest room door in the east wing of my in-laws’ estate, his small voice cracking through the wood.

“Dad?”

I put one hand flat against the door.

“Step back, Tyler.”

Behind me, Terrence Larkin’s dress shoes hit the marble floor like he owned every inch of the world.

“Lewis, you walk away right now.”

I didn’t turn around.

My son had called me from an unknown number twenty minutes earlier, whispering so low I almost couldn’t hear him.