My husband pushed me down the stairs, and as I lay shattered at the bottom, my mother-in-law called my father and said, “Come get your worthless daughter and take her back.” Dad gave her only one warning: “If she has so much as a scratch, your family will answer for it.” They laughed at him because they had absolutely no idea who my father truly was.

I didn’t mind.

Later, when she was asleep, I walked through the house checking that the doors were locked.

Once, not three times.

There were still days when I worried about the next legal notice or the next difficult exchange.

The difference was that worry no longer dictated every hour.

On the mantel sat a photograph of Dad, Lily, and me at her birthday party.

No mansion.