Easter has always been a time for warmth, family, and sweet surprises. This year, I thought I’d brighten my parents’ holiday with flowers, chocolates, and an unannounced visit. But what I found when I arrived at their home left me stunned—and heartbroken.
I live five hours away and talk to my mom almost daily. She always said everything was fine, sticking to her routine, never letting on that anything was wrong. Our family home, built by my dad’s hands and nurtured by my mom’s love, had always felt like a safe haven. But when I pulled into the driveway this Easter, nothing looked the same.
There were no decorations. No smells from the kitchen. No warm welcome. When no one answered the door, I let myself in with my old key. The place was unrecognizable—cold, sterile, stripped of the cozy charm it once had. Our family photos were gone, and even my mom’s favorite antique clock had been replaced with modern art.
That’s when I heard voices.
Cassandra—my older sister—and someone else. They were laughing, unaware of my presence. I overheard something that made my stomach turn: “What, the golden goose? She’ll be gone by morning.”
Continue reading on next page…