I stepped forward, my voice steadier and colder than I expected.

“What about Ava?” I demanded, cutting through their cheerful chatter. “If you’re buying things for Taylor and Zoey, what about my daughter?”

The area fell silent. Brooke froze with another dress half in her hands. My mother spun around, her eyes blazing. But my father reacted faster than I anticipated. He grabbed me and Ava roughly and began dragging us toward the exit.

Ava was screaming now, terrified and confused. Shoppers backed away, their faces a mix of pity and fear—but no one intervened. No one ever did.

“Don’t you dare question your sister!” my father shouted, his breath hot and bitter with coffee. “She can do whatever she wants! She’s successful. She’s married. She has a real life!”

He shoved us through the automatic doors into the glaring sunlight of the parking lot. I stumbled but managed to keep Ava on her feet. My father followed us outside, his face dark with rage.

“That money’s wasted on that useless kid anyway!” he snarled, jerking his thumb toward Ava as she clung to me, sobbing. “Crying over a stupid doll. This is why we never waste anything on you or your child. You’re both worthless.”

Then he laughed—a harsh, mocking sound I’d known my entire life.
“She still thinks that kid deserves gifts,” he sneered. “Unbelievable. When are you going to learn your place, Riley?”

Standing there with my daughter shaking against me, I felt the last remnants of love I had for them evaporate. My father turned and went back inside, leaving us alone among the cars. Through the store windows, I saw my mother and Brooke checking out, bags of new clothes piling up. Taylor clutched the doll that was supposed to be Ava’s birthday present. They were laughing, completely untouched by the damage they’d caused.

I walked away.

I buckled Ava into the car and drove off, my hands shaking so badly I nearly ran a red light a few blocks from the store.

That night, after a warm bath and her favorite story finally soothed Ava to sleep, I sat alone in my tiny apartment and made a decision. I had spent my life trapped in a cycle of abuse, chasing approval from people who would never give it. I had tolerated their cruelty, their favoritism, and their utter disregard for my daughter.

For what? A warped sense of family loyalty.