For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
The living room, the staircase, the piano recital program resting on the coffee table—everything faded into the background as Chloe’s words echoed in my head.
“Grandpa Richard.”
My father-in-law.
The man who brought her gifts on every birthday.
The man who proudly sat through every school concert.
The man everyone trusted.
And according to my daughter, the man who had been hurting her for months.
