“If you want dinner, lick it off the floor!” My son-in-law mocked me after knocking my plate down, while making a toast at dinner. I stood up, adjusted my coat, and said three words that left him completely terrified!

he had slapped my plate from my hands because I refused to raise a toast in his honor.

“Come on, Margaret,” he said smoothly, poison hidden beneath charm. “Don’t be dramatic. You live here rent-free. You eat food I pay for.”

I looked down at the roast scattered across the white marble floor. At the dark wine spreading through the gravy like blood.

Then continue reading …