My six-year-old daughter came home from her school trip in tears. “Mommy, my stomach hurts,” she sobbed. “Daddy put something strange in my lunchbox and thermos.” What I found inside made my hands shake. I went straight to my husband’s office—and that’s where I saw the truth.
“Ethan, sit down,” Claire said, trying to keep her voice level. “You’re making me nervous. Drink your coffee.” Ethan stopped. He looked at her, his eyes wide and haunted, with dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a week. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I have to…
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