They pinned my arms and buckled me into the chair. The nylon straps dug into my wrists. I didn’t fight. I let them do it.
Constance stroked my cheek, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she whispered, low enough so only I could hear. “I’ll handle the house. The cards. The accounts. While you’re locked away, Mommy will take care continue reading …
