Two hours into the ride back, I asked for a quick stop at a gas station, only to return and find the bus — and my family — gone. They had literally left me behind. No phone. No wallet. Just a windbreaker and a fading sense of dignity. A young gas station clerk named Marlee noticed my distress and, with simple compassion, offered me food and shelter.
She didn’t know who I was, didn’t care about what I owned. She just helped. That was more kindness than I’d seen all week. The next morning, I made one call — to my lawyer. By noon, my family showed up, frantic and full of excuses. But I was done. I introduced Marlee, then calmly announced I was taking back everything — the businesses, the homes, the cars. If they couldn’t treat me with basic decency, they didn’t deserve the empire I built. And for the first time in a long while, I felt seen.