When I got home from a business trip, I found my daughter unconscious by the door.

Her breathing was shallow. A faint sound escaped her lips, but she didn’t wake.

A dark bruise spread across her cheek—too harsh to be an accident.

Panic flooded me. I grabbed my phone—then stopped when I heard footsteps.

Jennifer appeared in the doorway, calm, almost indifferent, holding a dish towel as if nothing was wrong.

“Oh,” she said casually. “You’re home early.”