My MIL hurt my 6-year-old daughter over a dress, and when I stepped in, my SIL spat in my face. My husband nodded, saying, “They’re not wrong.” I didn’t fight. I packed our bags, walked out, and by morning, the legal papers I served them proved that the house they lived in belonged to…

the dress and give it to your cousin. You can wear Sophia’s. It’s actually much more expensive, so you’re getting an upgrade.”

Rose stepped back, her hands gripping the pink silk. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm. “It’s mine.”

Beth’s eyes narrowed. The mask of the benevolent grandmother slipped. “Excuse me?”

“No,” Rose said again.

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