For 11 months, I blamed the boy I thought had taken my daughter on prom night. I believed Livia had been stolen from me—until I found her prom dress hidden in my son’s room, along with letters that revealed the truth. She hadn’t been kidnapped. She had chosen to leave, pregnant and scared, because she was afraid I wouldn’t accept her. My son had protected her secret, and I finally had to face the painful truth: my love had become control. Finding my daughter again meant learning how to love her without trying to own her.
