Richard was hosting several business partners that morning to discuss a new expansion project. I had prepared all week—setting the table perfectly, organizing food, straightening every corner of the house. I wanted everything to go well.
“Mom,” she whispered, “I need to show you something in my room.”
Before I could respond, Richard walked in, adjusting his tie, every bit the polished executive. “What are you two whispering about?” he asked lightly.
I brushed it off. “Just schoolwork.”
But Sarah tugged gently at my sleeve as soon as he left the room. Something was wrong, and she didn’t want to say it aloud.
A Daughter’s Quiet Warning
The moment we reached her room, she shut the door. Then she handed me a small piece of paper, hurriedly folded.
I opened it.
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