My pregnant daughter ran into my office, her face covered in fresh b:ruises. Her husband, a beloved local politician, casually strolled in behind her, shutting the door.

adjusting his cufflinks. “Pregnancy. You know how women can be.”

My daughter flinched at the sound of his voice.

That was the moment I stopped breathing like an ordinary human being.

I looked at him calmly across my desk. “Did you hit her?”

He laughed.

Not nervously.

Not guiltily.

A polished, practiced, camera-friendly laugh.

“Margaret,” he said, “you’re too continue reading …