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.”
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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.
