My neighbor kept insisting she spotted my daughter at home during school hours. To be sure, I pretended to leave for work—then hid beneath the bed. Minutes later, I heard more than one set of footsteps crossing the hallway.
My name is Olivia Carter, and for the last two years, I believed I was the architect of a flawless, impregnable fortress for my daughter, Lily. Following the collapse of my marriage—a…









