She didn’t sit down. Didn’t take off her coat. She just stood there, jaw tight, and shoved her phone toward me.
“Your daughter is hiding something terrible from you,” she said. “You need to see this.”
My mouth went dry as the screen loaded.
It was a video.
Avery, sitting on the edge of her bed, crying. Talking into the camera. Saying things like, “I don’t know how much longer I can pretend.” And “I don’t want him to hate me.”
My heart dropped into my stomach.
“What is this?” I whispered.
Marisa crossed her arms. “She’s been lying. I found this on her tablet. She’s clearly unstable.”
I stood up so fast my chair scraped loudly across the floor.
