“You shouldn’t have come, Grant. Now we’re all in danger.” Just then, a black car pulled up behind us, and my daughter screamed…

pathetic gratitude. “I swear it,” she wept. “I surrender all control.”

Sofia pointed a curious finger at the parcel. “Is that object intended for me?”

“Yes,” Margaret sniffled, extending the box. “It belonged to your father, in a different lifetime.”

Sofia tore the paper away. Inside rested a collection of vintage, leather-bound fairy tales, their spines continue reading …