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The blood from the cut above my eye began to blur my vision, but I could still see the cold, calculating look on my daughter’s face. Ashley didn’t drop the handbag. She clutched it so tightly her knuckles were white, her chest heaving as she looked down at me. I was on my knees on the cold marble floor of the lobby, one hand pressed against the searing pain on my cheek, trying to process the absolute shattering of my world.
Derek stepped away from the brass mailboxes. He didn’t come over to help me up. He didn’t ask if I was alright. Instead, he reached into the inner pocket…