I had just won fifty million dollars
I had just won fifty million dollars and bought back the family home. I planned to announce it at dinner—until my six-year-old daughter accidentally spilled. My father grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face into the wall. “Useless, just like her mother,” he snarled. They laughed and kept eating while my child bled. I didn’t scream. I called 911, placed the house deeds on the table, and said calmly, “Everyone out of this house before sunrise.” The scent of old mahogany and lemon oil in the Vance estate always carried the flavor of silent judgment. I sat at the far end of the long dining table, the spot reserved for the "greatest failure" of the family. It had been five years since I left this golden cage, and today, I returned with a flickering hope that my father, Arthur Vance, had changed. I deliberately wore an old, frayed sweater and drove a rusted sedan, letting them see the "pathetic" Elena they expected. Beside me, my six-year-old daughter, Lily, trembl...
