If my medical appointment hadn’t ended early, I would’ve walked into my house at the usual time and stayed clueless.
I would’ve smiled at my grandchildren, made dinner, and gone to bed thinking my family was stressed—but still my family.
Instead, fate parked me in my driveway in Mesa, Arizona, at 3:10 PM.
And I heard my daughter in my bedroom… planning how to erase me.
Not quietly.
Not carefully.
Like she was discussing a holiday menu.
By the time I backed into the garage and sat in the dark, my hands shaking on the steering wheel, I understood one thing:
I had ten days to stop being the target.
And start being the person who writes the ending.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
