Chloe rounded on her, her eyes flashing.

“Did I ask for your input?” “No, ma’am.” “Then remember your damn place.” Chloe took a step closer to her.

“You’re hired help.

You’re not family.

You’re not their mother.

You are nobody in this house.” And I sat in that dark room and felt my fists clench, because every word Chloe spat at Marisol was the exact inverse of the truth.

Marisol had been more of a mother to my grieving daughters in the last two years than anyone, including, I was forced to admit, me.