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.

The sound that escaped my chest didn’t feel human.

Then heels clicked against the stairs. Mia appeared wearing silk pajamas, holding her phone like a crown.

Her smile froze immediately.

“Oh,” she said. “You’re home.”

Behind her stood Brent, shirtless and smug, wearing my watch.

My watch.

Mia recovered first. “You should’ve texted. We could’ve cleaned up.”

I stared directly at her. “Why is your mother starving?” ComfortFood Recipes

She rolled her eyes. “She’s being dramatic. She refuses delivery because she thinks it costs too much.”

Elena flinched.