My name is Rufus, and my daughter Emily is the heart of my world. Years after losing her mother, I remarried, hoping to rebuild life. But my new wife, Linda, never embraced Emily. Subtle digs turned into cold indifference, and though Emily rarely complained, I knew she felt unwelcome. When Emily, seven months pregnant, visited while I was away, I returned early to find her asleep on a thin air mattress in the hallway. The guest room I had prepared — with a crib for my grandchild — was untouched. Linda had lied, denying Emily comfort in her own father’s home.
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