When I arrived, my daughter was barely breathing. She was lying on the cold concrete, covered in bruises. And in that moment, I realized—these people must answer for everything.
At five in the morning, my son-in-law called me. His voice was cold, emotionless.
“Pick up your daughter from the bus stop. We don’t need her anymore.”
I didn’t even immediately understand what I heard. I asked what was going on, but my son-in-law simply hung up.
I drove along the wet highway through the rain, numb from my arms and legs. My heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in the car. My Laura is only twenty-four. Three years ago, she married Daniel, who comes from a wealthy family. They always looked down on her, but I thought it was just arrogance. I was wrong.
