The door opened, revealing Margaret in her impeccable linen pantsuit, appearing to everyone to be exactly where she belonged.
“Oh, you’re back,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “This house is mine now. You and your little brats need to find somewhere else to go.”
“Margaret, this is my home.”
She scoffs. “That was my son’s house. And now that he’s gone, you have no right to it.”
Emma started crying behind me. Liam moved closer, his small body positioning itself protectively in front of his sister.
