My tears fell silently, but I wiped them quickly, forcing myself to keep moving. I picked up the rag, clutched it like it was the only thing holding me together, and left the office.
In the living room, the sound of laughter hit me. But when I entered, my chest dropped.
Mud. Streaked across the carpet. Coreen—my little granddaughter—was running through the house with her shoes still wet.
“Coreen!” My voice cracked, harsher than I intended. “I told you not to mess up the floor!”
The little girl froze. Her eyes widened, her lips quivered. Then tears. She burst out crying, her small hands wiping her face as her tiny feet slipped on the muddy floor.
“Wait—Coreen!” I reached for her, desperate to catch her before she fell. But it was too late. She hit the ground, wailing louder.
“Mom!” Jackson’s voice thundered from the doorway. He rushed in, eyes blazing, scooping his daughter into his arms. “What the hell are you doing? You hurt my daughter!”
“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—” I stammered, reaching for Coreen.
But Jackson shoved me back. “Stay away from her!”
Coreen sobbed into his chest, her little voice sharp as a dagger. “Granny is bad. She hurt me! Granny is evil!”