I came home just in time to see my injured father crawling across the marble floor while my stepmother laughed above him. “Crawl faster, Richard, or you get no medicine,” she said, pressing her heel near his trembling hand. My stepbrother smirked, wearing my father’s watch like a trophy. They thought I was still the powerless daughter who ran away. They had no idea I had returned with evidence, lawyers, and one final signature that could destroy them.
My stepmother made my injured father crawl across the marble floor to bring her tea.
