Every Christmas, my family—husband Alex, son Liam, daughter Ava, and I—escaped to a tropical getaway.

But this year, returning home, we found our house in disarray: egg yolk splattered on the walls, the porch covered in shells, and my ruined wreath.

A crumpled note under the mat read, “This is for the years you ignored me.

Later, we watched security footage of a hooded figure throwing eggs at our house. I recognized the movements—it was my father