My daughter never returned home after prom—eleven months later, something I accidentally discovered hidden inside my son’s beanbag chair turned my face completely pale.

woman they feared.

I took one step back.

“No,” I said. “That was the wrong question.”

Livia blinked.

“What did I do that made leaving feel safer than telling me the truth?”

Her mouth trembled.

“That was the wrong question.”

“You made everything a test,” she said. “My grades. My clothes. My friends. Mitchell. Even my tone.”

“I thought I was guiding you.”

“When continue reading …