My stepdad never treated me like family. Right before my bachelorette trip, Mom called: “Your father’s in the hospital. He’s dying. You should cancel and come help me.”
I answered coldly, “He’s your husband, your duty.” Then I got on the plane.
The next morning, I pulled back the curtains in my beachside suite—and froze. Just offshore was a sleek white yacht. His yacht. The one he guarded like treasure, the one he never let me near, the one he always said was “not for kids.”
But now, painted across the side was a new name: Second Chance. And beneath it, in gold letters