“Give me that!”
I stepped back and opened it before she could stop me.
The first page had dates.
Next to Lily’s name were handwritten notes:
“No dessert.”
“No snacks.”
“Dinner withheld.”
“Asked for bread again.”
“Needs stronger discipline.”
My stomach turned.
Page after page documented what Lily had eaten—and what Vanessa had deliberately refused to give her.
Then Mason began crying.
“I gave her crackers when Mom went upstairs.”
Vanessa shouted that he was lying.
But Lily quietly said:
“Mason hides food under his bed for me.”
I couldn’t speak.
My nine-year-old son had been secretly feeding his little sister while I was at work.
Then I reached the final page.
At the bottom, Vanessa had written one sentence that made my blood run cold:
“Starting Monday, she gets nothing until she learns.”
I looked at Vanessa.
She looked back at me and whispered:
“You don’t understand. I’m fixing her.”
That night, I packed bags for both children.
But as we reached the front door, Mason grabbed my hand.
“Dad… there’s something else you need to see.”
Then he pointed upstairs.
Toward our bedroom.
