Sixty five year old Eleanor had spent thirty years taking care of the whole family. And what did she get for it? Her study abroad granddaughter called her an “idiot” to her face. Her son said she “couldn’t hold her own in public.” Her daughter in law sneered that she was “just an old maid who knows how to wash clothes and cook.” But none of them had a clue—she was the head of the Haven Foundation, worth a hundred billion, and a linguistics professor at Princeton. The house, the company, the tuition money—she’d paid for every last bit of it. So she flipped the table, slammed the door, checked into a seven star hotel, and called her lawyer. This time, she was going to make them homeless, down on their knees, begging for mercy.