At Dinner, My Sister Drenched Me In Wine, Shouting: “You Have Until Sunrise To Get Out Of My House!” My Parents Cheered Her On. I Just Smiled, Dropped A Key On The Table, And Replied: “THEN YOU HAVE 60 SECONDS…”

“Reasonably?” I touched my wine-soaked blouse. “Was this reasonable? Were twenty years of treatment that would make Cinderella’s stepfamily look kind reasonable?”

But I wasn’t done. Not even close. Because the wine dripping down my face was just the beginning of what I had endured. And the key I’d placed on the table was just the first of many surprises I had in store for them.

“You have sixty seconds,” I reminded them, glancing at my watch. “Fifty-five now. I suggest you start thinking very carefully about your next move.”

The dining room felt smaller suddenly, charged with an electric tension that made the air hard to breathe. Lauren’s hand shook as she reached for her phone, probably to call her boyfriend, her lawyer, or anyone who might tell her this was all some horrible nightmare.

But it wasn’t a nightmare.

It was justice—served at exactly the right temperature, with a side of consequences they’d never seen coming.

“And I’m just getting started,” I said.

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