I was a devoted mother, my world revolving around my precious baby girl, Lily.
All I wanted was to keep her safe, to give her the best life possible, despite living under my in-laws' roof.
But my mother-in-law, Karen, was a monster of penny-pinching cruelty.
Her idiotic refusal to pay for proper medical care for Lily's jaundice, choosing a blazing hot lamp instead, was just the beginning.
Then came her ultimate act of malice: swapping Lily's vital probiotic with her lethal pesticide, Bora-Kill.
My baby, my sweet Lily, died a horrific, agonizing death.
My husband, Mike, blamed me, calling it an accident, while his father, Frank, backed them both up.
Consumed by a rage so pure it burned, I ended it all, taking them with me in a fiery gas explosion.
The last thing I remembered was the sweet, cloying scent of gas, and a chilling satisfaction.
Then I opened my eyes, not to death, but to the familiar, dingy floral wallpaper of Karen' s living room.
Disbelief warred with a crushing wave of horror: I was alive, somehow, back in the very moment the nightmare began.
And I heard it again – the piercing cry of my baby.
This time, there would be no mistake.
No more weeping for a broken life.
I had the foresight, the memory of every single treacherous move they would make.
My grief now fueled an unstoppable resolve: I would protect my Lily, and I would make every single one of them pay.