and the force of an adult hand. Some were fresh. Others were fading into ugly yellows and greens. She had been hurt more than once.
My daughter — my bright, gentle, trusting little girl — had been living in fear.
My name is Daniel Reeves.
I thought I had built a good life. A stable marriage. A beautiful daughter. A career that let me provide for them. But in that moment, kneeling in front of Sophie, I realized I had been blind.
Her mother, my wife Rachel, had always been strict. “High standards,” she called it. But over the past year, something had shifted. Sophie had become quieter. More anxious. She flinched at loud voices. She apologized for things that didn’t need apologizing for.
I had told myself it was just a phase. School stress. Growing pains.
I was wrong.
That night, after getting Sophie safely to the hospital and documenting every
