When my stepdaughter called me the help at my own dinner table, I stood there with a dish towel in my hands and corrected her, calm and polite. My husband didn’t defend me. He looked right at me and said,
“She’s not your daughter. Don’t correct her.”
That was the moment everything changed.
I’m Diane Mercer. I’m fifty-two years old, and I live in Carmel, Indiana. I’ve been married twice. The first one ended when I was forty-three after twenty years of what I thought was a stable life.
