They had always known.

Beatrice’s cruelty toward Chloe was not some subtle thing that only I, hypersensitive stepmother, could perceive.

The whole family saw it, year after year, and the whole family had made the same quiet cowardly trade I had made, choosing the comfort of not making a scene over the harder work of protecting a child who was not their own.

When the room went silent to watch Chloe open that drugstore bag, it was not the silence of people who did not understand what was happening.

It was the silence of people who understood perfectly, and had decided, once again, in advance, to do nothing.