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.

you last eat?”

She avoided my eyes.

“Elena.”

“Yesterday morning,” she admitted quietly. “I had half a banana.”

Rage hit me so hard I had to grip the table to steady myself.

Then heels clicked down the staircase.

Mia appeared wearing silk pajamas, holding her phone high as comments poured across the screen. Behind her stood Brent, shirtless, arrogant, and continue reading …