My daughter forgot to hang up the phone. I overheard her telling her husband, “He’s a burden. It’s time for a nursing home,” so they could sell my house for $890,000. They had no idea I heard everything — and I called a realtor right after.

The phone call had barely ended when George Müller realized what he had just heard. His daughter’s voice, calm and practical, sliced through the silence of his small kitchen like a blade.

“He’s a burden. It’s time for a nursing home,” she had said, her tone clipped, efficient. “We can sell the house for eight hundred ninety thousand, easy. That’ll cover everything.”

She didn’t know he was still on the line.