Every Christmas, my family—husband Alex, son Liam, daughter Ava,
and I—escaped to a tropical getaway. But this year, returning home,
we found our house in disarray: egg yolk splattered on the walls,
the porch covered in shells, and my ruined wreath. A crumpled note
under the mat read, “This is for the years you ignored me. Later,
we watched security footage of a hooded figure throwing
eggs at our house. I recognized the movements—it was my father