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.

She made the rooms uneven and insisted every window have curtains.

For dinner she requested buttered noodles.

Dad burned the garlic bread, apologized to no one, and claimed it was an artistic choice.

At bedtime, Lily asked whether she would have to go back to the big house tomorrow.

“Not tomorrow,” I said.

“The adults are working out a plan.

For now, you’re staying here with me.”

“Daddy says you hate him.”