After three years locked away, I returned to learn my father had d!ed and my stepmother ruled his house. She didn’t know he’d hidden a letter and key, leading to a unit and video proving frame-up.

The door opened—and the warmth I expected never came.

Linda stood there.

My stepmother.

Perfectly styled hair. Crisp silk blouse. Sharp eyes that inspected me like an inconvenience delivered by mistake.

For a brief moment, I thought she might flinch. Or soften. Or at least seem surprised.