I Refused to Give My Children Early Inheritance — After My Son Forced Me to the Floor to Take Control, I Called Witnesses, Reversed Our Positions Through the Law, and They Were Removed While I Kept My Freedom

I felt something tighten in my chest, not fear exactly, but recognition. This wasn’t a conversation anymore; it was a demand wrapped in familiarity.

“I’m protecting myself,” I said. “And my future.”

Renee laughed, a thin sound that echoed unpleasantly in the room. “Your future?” she scoffed. “You already had one. You don’t get to lock us out now.”

Victor’s patience snapped in a way I had quietly anticipated but hoped would never arrive. His hand came out fast, not clenched into a fist, but open, forceful, dismissive, and the shove sent me backward before I could brace myself. I remember the sound more than the pain at first—the dull impact as my shoulder hit the edge of the coffee table, the sharp intake of breath that didn’t fully arrive, the way the ceiling seemed to tilt as I slid down onto the rug.

For a moment, the room swam, my lungs refusing to cooperate as if offended by the sudden violence. I lay there gasping, one hand pressed against my side, feeling the slow bloom of pain spreading beneath my ribs.

Renee crouched beside me, her face close enough that I could smell her perfume. “You always did love the dramatics,” she said coolly. “Get up.”

Victor hovered behind her, restless, already pacing, already planning what came next.

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