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The air in Harmony Creek always smelled of lavender and lies. My mother-in-law, Deborah Hayes, was hailed as a spiritual savior, but her serenity was a suffocating shroud over my life, especially after my daughter, Lily, drowned in a pool with a broken latch-a latch my husband, Tom, Deborah' s "blessed son," had repeatedly promised to fix. Instead of grief, Lily' s death was declared a "spiritual transition" by Deborah, a "blessing" echoed by Tom and the entire town. When I screamed that she had drowned because of neglect, they dismissed my pain as "low-frequency energy," even performing a brutal "cleansing" ritual to beat the "dark entity" out of me. Now, as they celebrated my dead child, something inside me snapped; if I wanted justice for Lily, I would have to take it myself, piece by fraudulent piece, from the heart of Deborah' s empire.