For years, every family dinner felt like a trial, and my mother-in-law, Patricia, always made sure I was the one on the stand.Family
She never liked me. Not from the day I married Dave.
But what she hated most was that our son, Sam, didn’t look like him.
Sam had my dark curls, my olive skin, my eyes. Dave was blond and fair. To Patricia, that was not genetics. It was ammunition.
