On Christmas night, my son invited me to attend a “perfect family dinner.” As the dinner table had just been fully set, my phone suddenly vibrated — an unknown number texted: ‘Go home. Trust me.’ I gripped the phone tightly, then decided to stand up and leave the dinner.
On Christmas night in our quiet Chicago suburb, my son invited me to attend what he called a “perfect family dinner.” The table had just been fully set, crystal glasses catching the glow of the chandelier, when my phone suddenly vibrated. An unknown number flashed on the screen and a text appeared:I gripped the…
