The days that followed were tense and quiet, but the breaking point came the following week, when Delia told Gwendolyn plainly that she had two days to arrange other lodging. Gwendolyn’s face went cold. That evening, Delia heard a strange scraping sound from the parking lot. When she looked out the window, she saw her mother-in-law standing beside her car with a set of keys, dragging the metal deliberately down the length of the door, then swinging a decorative garden stone through the windshield.

Delia ran downstairs. By the time she reached the lot, the hood was dented, both side mirrors hung broken, and glass littered the pavement. “What did you do?” she gasped. Gwendolyn didn’t even flinch. She dropped the stone, brushed off her hands, and smiled the same smile she’d worn making soup in a kitchen that wasn’t hers. “Prove it,” she said. “It’s your word against mine. Let’s see who’s going to believe you.” What Gwendolyn didn’t notice was that Delia had already lifted her phone the moment she saw the damage, and it was still recording.