I left that house that same day and didn’t look back.
I stopped calling.
Stopped being their 24/7 on-call handyman, chauffeur, and financial planner.
At first, they stayed quiet. I think they assumed I’d cool off and return to my “dutiful son” role. They waited two weeks before texting.
My father’s message was as cold as the paper I’d read:
“Property taxes are due. Can you send the money?”
No greeting. No concern. Just another transaction.
I texted back: “I think Eric can handle it. It’s his house now.”
The Guilt Trip Began
That’s when the real manipulation started.
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