My brother-in-law pointed at my shaking father inside the $425,000 beachfront mansion I had bought my parents and growled, “This is my house now. Get out.”

“You did enough, son.”

I looked at him.

“No, Dad.”

I smiled.

“Now I’m just making sure nobody forgets whose house this is.”

He laughed.

And behind us, the front door remained open.

Not because anyone was entitled to enter.

Because, finally, my parents were no longer afraid of who might knock.

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