The refrigerator was empty. My wife’s hands were trembling. And upstairs, my daughter was livestreaming her new designer bag, bought with the money meant for food. “Dad won’t do anything,” Mia whispered to her boyfriend.

From upstairs came my daughter’s voice, bright and vicious. Family

“Dad’s overseas again, so this place is basically mine now. And Mom? She barely notices anything anymore.”

My blood turned to ice.

Mia was twenty-four. Beautiful, spoiled, and convinced beauty itself was a career plan. After her startup collapsed, I allowed her to move back home. Elena begged me for patience. “She’s young,” she insisted.

But this wasn’t youth.

This was decay.

I knelt beside Elena. “When did you last eat?”

She looked away silently.

“Elena.”

“Yesterday morning. Half a banana.”