Chapter 1: The Servant\u2019s Christmas
\nThe turkey was a twenty-pound monument to my exhaustion. It sat on the counter, glistening with the glaze I had made from scratch\u2014bourbon, maple, and orange zest\u2014smelling of warmth and holiday cheer. But to me, it smelled like slavery.<\/p>\n
My ankles were swollen to the size of grapefruits. I was seven months pregnant, and my back felt like someone had driven a railroad spike into my lumbar spine. I had been on my feet since 5:00 AM. Chopping, roasting, cleaning, polishing.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnna!\u201d Sylvia\u2019s voice cut through the kitchen like a serrated knife. My mother-in-law didn\u2019t speak; she screeched. \u201cWhere is the cranberry sauce? David\u2019s plate is dry!\u201d<\/p>\n
I wiped my hands on my stained apron. \u201cComing, Sylvia. Just getting it from the fridge.\u201d<\/p>\n
I walked into the dining room. It was a scene from a magazine: crystal glasses, silver cutlery, a roaring fire. My husband, David, sat at the head of the table, laughing at something his colleague, a junior partner named Mark, had said.<\/p>\n
David looked handsome in his charcoal suit. He looked successful. He looked like the man I thought I had married three years ago\u2014a charming, ambitious lawyer who promised to take care of me.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t look at me as I placed the crystal bowl of cranberry sauce on the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout time,\u201d Sylvia sniffed. She was wearing a red velvet dress that was too tight for a woman of sixty. She picked up her fork and poked at the turkey on her plate. \u201cThis bird is dry, Anna. Did you baste it every thirty minutes like I told you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, Sylvia,\u201d I whispered, my voice hoarse. \u201cI basted it exactly as you said.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, you must have done it wrong,\u201d she dismissed me with a wave of her hand. \u201cGo get the gravy. Maybe that will save it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at David. He was swirling his wine\u2014a vintage Bordeaux I had decanted an hour ago.<\/p>\n
\u201cDavid,\u201d I said softly. \u201cMy back is really hurting. Can I\u2026 can I sit down for a minute? The baby is kicking hard.\u201d<\/p>\n
David stopped laughing. He looked at me, his eyes cold and annoyed. \u201cAnna, don\u2019t be dramatic. Mark is telling us about the Henderson case. Don\u2019t interrupt.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut David\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust get the gravy, babe,\u201d he said, turning back to Mark. \u201cSorry, she gets a little emotional with the pregnancy hormones.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark chuckled uncomfortably. \u201cNo worries, man. Women, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt a tear prick the corner of my eye. I turned back to the kitchen.<\/p>\n
I was the daughter of William Thorne. I had grown up in a library filled with first-edition law books. I had attended debutante balls in D.C. I had played chess with Supreme Court Justices in my living room.<\/p>\n
But David didn\u2019t know that. Sylvia didn\u2019t know that.<\/p>\n
When I met David, I was rebellious. I wanted to escape the suffocating pressure of my father\u2019s legacy. I wanted to be loved for me, not for my last name. So I told David I was estranged from my family. I told him my father was a retired clerk in Florida.<\/p>\n
I thought I was finding true love. Instead, I found a man who loved my vulnerability because it made him feel powerful.<\/p>\n
I walked back into the dining room with the gravy boat. My legs were shaking uncontrollably.<\/p>\n
I looked at the empty chair next to David. It was set with a plate, but no one was sitting there.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t stand anymore. I walked over and pulled the chair out.<\/p>\n
The screech of the wooden legs against the hardwood floor silenced the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you think you\u2019re doing?\u201d Sylvia asked, her voice dangerously low.<\/p>\n
\u201cI need to sit,\u201d I said, gripping the chair back. \u201cJust for a minute to eat.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sylvia stood up. She slammed her hand onto the table, making the silverware jump.<\/p>\n
\u201cServants don\u2019t sit with the family,\u201d she hissed.<\/p>\n
I froze. \u201cI am his wife, Sylvia. I am carrying your grandchild.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are a useless girl who can\u2019t even cook a turkey right,\u201d she spat. \u201cYou eat in the kitchen, standing up, after we are finished. That is how it works in my house. Know your place.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at David. My husband. The father of my child.<\/p>\n
\u201cDavid?\u201d I pleaded.<\/p>\n
David took a sip of wine. He didn\u2019t look at me. He looked at the wall.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen to my mother, Anna,\u201d he said casually. \u201cShe knows best. Don\u2019t make a scene in front of Mark. Go to the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n
A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. It wasn\u2019t hunger. It was a cramp. A bad one.<\/p>\n
I gasped, my hand flying to my stomach. \u201cDavid\u2026 something is wrong. It hurts.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGo!\u201d Sylvia shouted, pointing a manicured finger at the kitchen door.<\/p>\n
I turned. I stumbled. The world tilted.<\/p>\n
Chapter 2: The Fatal Shove
\nI tried to walk. I really did. But the pain in my stomach was like a hot iron twisting inside me.<\/p>\n
I stopped near the kitchen island, gripping the granite countertop to keep from collapsing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI said move!\u201d Sylvia yelled from behind me.<\/p>\n
She had followed me into the kitchen. Her face was twisted into a mask of pure, ugly rage. She couldn\u2019t stand disobedience. She couldn\u2019t stand that I had challenged her authority by trying to sit.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d I wheezed. \u201cSylvia, please\u2026 call a doctor.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou lazy, lying little brat!\u201d Sylvia screamed. \u201cAlways sick! Always tired! You are pathetic!\u201d<\/p>\n
She lunged at me.<\/p>\n
She placed both hands on my chest\u2014right over my heart\u2014and shoved.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t a gentle push. It was a violent, forceful shove fueled by years of bitterness and cruelty.<\/p>\n
I was off balance. My swollen feet slipped on the tile floor.<\/p>\n
I fell backward.<\/p>\n
Time seemed to slow down. I saw the ceiling lights spinning. I saw Sylvia\u2019s sneering face receding.<\/p>\n
My lower back smashed into the sharp edge of the granite island counter.<\/p>\n
CRACK.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t the sound of bone. It was the sound of impact, deep and dull.<\/p>\n
I hit the floor hard. My head bounced off the tile.<\/p>\n
For a second, there was only shock. Then, the pain arrived. It wasn\u2019t in my back. It was in my womb.<\/p>\n
It felt like something had torn.<\/p>\n
\u201cAhhh!\u201d I screamed, curling into a ball.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet up!\u201d Sylvia yelled, standing over me. \u201cStop acting! You didn\u2019t even hit your head!\u201d<\/p>\n
Then, I felt it.<\/p>\n
Warmth. Wetness. Soaking through my underwear. Spreading down my thighs.<\/p>\n
I looked down.<\/p>\n
Against the pristine white tiles of Sylvia\u2019s kitchen floor, a pool of bright, crimson red was expanding rapidly.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe baby\u2026\u201d I whispered. The horror was absolute. It choked me.<\/p>\n
David ran into the kitchen, followed by Mark.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d David asked, looking annoyed. \u201cI heard a crash.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe slipped,\u201d Sylvia lied instantly. \u201cClumsy girl. Look at this mess! She\u2019s bleeding on my grout!\u201d<\/p>\n
David looked at the blood. He didn\u2019t drop to his knees. He didn\u2019t scream for help.<\/p>\n
He frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus, Anna,\u201d David groaned. \u201cCan\u2019t you do anything without drama? Mark, sorry about this. She\u2019s\u2026 she\u2019s having a moment.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark looked pale. \u201cDavid, that\u2019s a lot of blood. Maybe we should call 911.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo!\u201d David snapped. \u201cNo ambulances. The neighbors will talk. I just made partner track; I don\u2019t need a domestic incident report.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me. \u201cGet up, Anna. Clean this up. Then we\u2019ll go to the urgent care if you\u2019re still bleeding.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUrgent care?\u201d I choked out. \u201cDavid\u2026 I\u2019m losing the baby. Call 911!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI said get up!\u201d David shouted.<\/p>\n
He grabbed my arm and yanked me.<\/p>\n
Another gush of blood. The pain was blinding now.<\/p>\n
I realized then, with a clarity that cut through the agony, that he didn\u2019t care. He didn\u2019t love me. He didn\u2019t love our child. He loved his image. He loved his control.<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t a person to him. I was a prop.<\/p>\n
And my prop was broken.<\/p>\n
I reached into my apron pocket with a trembling hand. My phone. I needed my phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m calling the police,\u201d I sobbed.<\/p>\n
David saw the screen light up. His eyes went black.<\/p>\n
\u201cGive me that!\u201d<\/p>\n
He snatched the phone from my hand. He didn\u2019t just take it. He threw it.<\/p>\n
He hurled it across the kitchen. It hit the far wall with a sickening crunch and shattered into plastic shards.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou aren\u2019t calling anyone,\u201d David hissed, looming over me. \u201cYou are going to shut up. You are going to stop bleeding. And you are going to apologize to my mother for ruining Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n
Chapter 3: The Lawyer\u2019s Arrogance
\nI lay in the pool of my own blood and the wreckage of my unborn child. The grief should have paralyzed me. The physical shock should have knocked me unconscious.<\/p>\n
But something else was happening.<\/p>\n
The Thorne bloodline was waking up.<\/p>\n
My grandfather was a Senator. My father was the Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court. I came from a line of men who ate lions for breakfast. I had suppressed that fire for three years to be David\u2019s sweet, submissive wife.<\/p>\n
But David had just killed my child.<\/p>\n
The fire wasn\u2019t suppressed anymore. It was an inferno.<\/p>\n
I stopped crying. I wiped the tears from my face with a bloody hand.<\/p>\n
I looked up at David. He was standing there, hands on his hips, radiating arrogance.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen to me,\u201d David sneered, squatting down next to me so our faces were level. \u201cI am a lawyer. A damn good one. I know the judges in this county. I play golf with the Sheriff. If you try to tell anyone about this, I will destroy you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He poked me in the chest.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s your word against ours. My mother will testify you slipped. Mark\u2026 Mark didn\u2019t see anything, did you Mark?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark, standing in the doorway, looked terrified. \u201cI\u2026 I didn\u2019t see anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSee?\u201d David smiled, a cruel, shark-like grin. \u201cYou have no witnesses. I will have you committed, Anna. I will say you are mentally unstable. Post-partum psychosis before the birth. I will lock you away in a facility where no one will ever hear you scream. You will never win against me. I know the statutes. I know the loopholes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him. I really looked at him. I saw the cheap suit. The desperate ambition. The smallness of his soul.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re right, David,\u201d I said. My voice was quiet, but it didn\u2019t tremble. \u201cYou know the statutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I pulled myself up to a sitting position, leaning against the cabinets.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you don\u2019t know who wrote them.\u201d<\/p>\n
David frowned. \u201cWhat are you babbling about? The blood loss making you delusional?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGive me your phone,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGive me your phone,\u201d I repeated. \u201cCall my father.\u201d<\/p>\n
David laughed. It was a manic, incredulous sound. He stood up and looked at his mother. \u201cDid you hear that? She wants to call her daddy. The retired clerk in Florida. What\u2019s he going to do? Write me a stern letter?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCall him,\u201d I said. \u201cPut it on speaker.\u201d<\/p>\n
David shook his head, pulling his brand-new iPhone 15 Pro out of his pocket. \u201cFine. Let\u2019s call him. Let\u2019s tell him his daughter is a clumsy, hysterical mess who can\u2019t even keep a pregnancy.\u201d<\/p>\n
He unlocked the phone. \u201cWhat\u2019s the number?\u201d<\/p>\n
I recited it from memory. It wasn\u2019t a Florida area code. It was a D.C. area code. A specific prefix used only by high-level government officials.<\/p>\n
David paused as he typed it. \u201c202? That\u2019s D.C.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust dial, David.\u201d<\/p>\n
He hit call. He put it on speaker, holding it out mockingly.<\/p>\n
The phone rang once. Twice.<\/p>\n
Chapter 4: \u201cThis is the Chief Justice\u201d
\nThe phone didn\u2019t go to voicemail. It didn\u2019t go to a secretary.<\/p>\n
It clicked open.<\/p>\n
\u201cIdentify yourself,\u201d a voice boomed.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t a casual greeting. It was a command. The voice was deep, gravelly, and carried the weight of absolute, unchallengeable authority.<\/p>\n
David blinked. \u201cUh\u2026 hello? Is this Mr. Thorne?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI said identify yourself,\u201d the voice repeated, colder this time. \u201cYou have dialed a restricted federal line. Who is this?\u201d<\/p>\n
David\u2019s arrogance faltered slightly. \u201cThis is David Miller. I\u2019m Anna\u2019s husband. Look, your daughter has made a huge mess here, and\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnna?\u201d The voice changed instantly. The official tone cracked, revealing the terrified father underneath. \u201cWhere is my daughter? Put her on the line.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s right here,\u201d David said, rolling his eyes. \u201cCrying on the floor because she slipped.\u201d<\/p>\n
He shoved the phone toward my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnna?\u201d My father\u2019s voice was sharp. \u201cAnna, why are you calling from this number? Why are you crying?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy\u2026\u201d A sob broke through my composure. \u201cThey hurt me. David and his mother. Sylvia pushed me. I fell\u2026 I\u2019m bleeding, Daddy. There\u2019s so much blood. I think\u2026 I think the baby is gone.\u201d<\/p>\n
The silence on the other end of the line was absolute. It was a vacuum.<\/p>\n
David looked at me, confused. \u201cWhy are you telling him that? He can\u2019t help you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then, the voice returned. But it wasn\u2019t the voice of a father anymore. It was the voice of God.<\/p>\n
\u201cDavid Miller,\u201d my father said.<\/p>\n
David jumped. \u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is Chief Justice William Thorne of the United States Supreme Court.\u201d<\/p>\n
David froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked at the phone as if it had turned into a live grenade.<\/p>\n
Every lawyer in America knew the name William Thorne. He was the lion of the bench. The man who terrified Senators. The man whose opinions shaped the fabric of the nation.<\/p>\n
\u201cJustice\u2026 Thorne?\u201d David squeaked. \u201cBut\u2026 Anna said\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have touched my daughter,\u201d my father continued, his voice low and vibrating with a rage so potent it felt like it could travel through the wire and strangle David. \u201cYou have harmed my grandchild.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was an accident!\u201d David shouted, panic setting in. \u201cShe fell! I\u2019m a lawyer, I know\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are nothing!\u201d my father roared. \u201cYou are a speck of dirt on my shoe! Listen to me very carefully, you son of a bitch. Do not move. Do not touch her again. Do not even breathe too loudly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2026 I\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have activated the U.S. Marshal Service Emergency Response Team,\u201d my father said. \u201cThey are two minutes from your location. They have orders to secure the asset. That asset is my daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMarshals?\u201d David looked out the window. \u201cYou can\u2019t do that! This is a domestic dispute!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is an assault on the family of a Protected Federal Official,\u201d my father said. \u201cPray to whatever god you believe in, David. Pray that she is alive when they get there. Because if she isn\u2019t\u2026 I will peel the skin from your body myself.\u201d<\/p>\n
The line went dead.<\/p>\n
David dropped the phone. It clattered onto the floor next to me.<\/p>\n
He looked at me with pure, unadulterated terror. He looked at Sylvia, who was pale as a sheet.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father\u2026 is the Chief Justice?\u201d David whispered.<\/p>\n
I smiled. My teeth were stained with blood from biting my lip.<\/p>\n
\u201cI told you, David,\u201d I whispered. \u201cYou don\u2019t know who wrote the laws.\u201d<\/p>\n
Chapter 5: The Verdict
\nTwo minutes later, the house shook.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t a knock. It was a breach.<\/p>\n
The front door exploded inward with a deafening crash. Flashbang grenades detonated in the hallway, filling the house with blinding light and deafening noise.<\/p>\n
\u201cFEDERAL AGENTS! GET ON THE GROUND!\u201d<\/p>\n
Sylvia screamed and dove under the table. Mark ran into the pantry.<\/p>\n
David stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands raised, shaking violently.<\/p>\n
Six men in full tactical gear stormed the kitchen. They carried assault rifles. They wore vests emblazoned with \u201cUS MARSHAL.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cContact front!\u201d one shouted.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet down! Now!\u201d<\/p>\n
An agent tackled David. He hit him hard, slamming his face into the bloody tiles right next to me. David screamed as his arm was twisted behind his back.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t shoot! I\u2019m a lawyer!\u201d David wailed.<\/p>\n
\u201cShut up!\u201d the agent yelled, zip-tying his hands.<\/p>\n
Another agent, a medic, knelt beside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMs. Thorne? I\u2019m Agent Carter. We\u2019re going to get you out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe baby\u2026\u201d I wept.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ve got an ambulance in the driveway. Stay with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
They lifted me onto a stretcher. As they carried me out, I passed David. He was pressed against the floor, his cheek resting in the puddle of my blood. He looked up at me, his eyes begging.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnna! Tell them! Tell them it was a mistake! We\u2019re married! They can\u2019t arrest me!\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked down at him. The man I had loved. The man who had killed our future.<\/p>\n
\u201cOfficer,\u201d I said to the agent holding David down.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, Ma\u2019am?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to press charges,\u201d I said clearly. \u201cAggravated Assault. Unlawful Imprisonment. And\u2026 murder.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo!\u201d David screamed. \u201cAnna!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I want a divorce,\u201d I added.<\/p>\n
They carried me out into the cold night air. The street was blocked off by black SUVs with flashing red and blue lights. A helicopter circled overhead, its spotlight illuminating the house like a crime scene.<\/p>\n
Sylvia was being dragged out in handcuffs, still wearing her festive velvet dress, now ruined. She was screaming about her rights.<\/p>\n
I was loaded into the ambulance.<\/p>\n
A black town car screeched to a halt right next to the ambulance. The back door flew open.<\/p>\n
My father stepped out.<\/p>\n
He was wearing a trench coat over his pajamas. He looked older than I remembered, but his eyes were fierce.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnna!\u201d<\/p>\n
He ran to the stretcher. He grabbed my hand. Tears were streaming down his face\u2014the face that usually terrified politicians.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy,\u201d I whispered. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. I\u2019m so sorry I left.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHush,\u201d he kissed my forehead. \u201cYou\u2019re safe now. I\u2019ve got you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He turned to the Marshal in charge.<\/p>\n
\u201cGeneral,\u201d my father said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, Mr. Chief Justice?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat man inside,\u201d my father pointed at the house. \u201cHe is to be held in federal custody. No bail. He is a flight risk. He is a danger to society. I will sign the warrant myself.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUnderstood, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd make sure,\u201d my father added, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper, \u201cthat he understands exactly who he messed with.\u201d<\/p>\n
Chapter 6: Freedom
\nSix Months Later<\/p>\n
The garden of my father\u2019s estate in Virginia was in full bloom. The cherry blossoms were falling like pink snow.<\/p>\n
I sat on a stone bench, feeling the sun on my face. My body had healed, mostly. The scars on my back had faded to white lines. The scar on my heart\u2014the empty space where my baby should have been\u2014was still raw, but it was bearable now.<\/p>\n
I picked up the Washington Post sitting on the bench.<\/p>\n
The headline read: \u201cFormer Attorney David Miller Sentenced to 25 Years.\u201d<\/p>\n
I read the article.<\/p>\n
David had been charged federally. The assault on a family member of a federal judge carries heavy penalties. But they had also found other things. Once my father\u2019s friends started digging, they found David had been embezzling from his clients. They found fraud. They found everything.<\/p>\n
He had pleaded guilty, sobbing in the courtroom, begging for mercy. The judge\u2014a man my father had mentored twenty years ago\u2014gave him the maximum sentence.<\/p>\n
Sylvia had gotten ten years as an accessory and for obstruction of justice.<\/p>\n
They were gone. Erased.<\/p>\n
My father walked out of the house, carrying two cups of tea. He sat down next to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cReading the news?\u201d he asked gently.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust the comics,\u201d I lied, folding the paper.<\/p>\n
He smiled. \u201cYou look good, Anna. Stronger.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI feel stronger,\u201d I said. \u201cI applied to Georgetown Law yesterday.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father\u2019s eyebrows shot up. \u201cLaw school? I thought you hated the law.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI hated the pressure,\u201d I corrected. \u201cI hated the expectation. But\u2026 I realized something that night in the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe law is a weapon,\u201d I said. \u201cDavid tried to use it as a club to beat me down. He thought it belonged to him because he memorized the words.\u201d<\/p>\n
I took a sip of tea.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut he was wrong. The law belongs to the people who are willing to fight for it. It belongs to the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father put his arm around me. \u201cYou will make a terrifying lawyer, Anna.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI intend to,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
I looked out at the garden. I thought about the baby I lost. I would never get to hold him. But I would make sure that his memory meant something. I would spend the rest of my life making sure that men like David\u2014men who thrive on silence and fear\u2014never won again.<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t the servant anymore. I wasn\u2019t the victim.<\/p>\n
I was Anna Thorne. And I was the law.<\/p>\n
The End.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Chapter 1: The Servant\u2019s Christmas The turkey was a twenty-pound monument to my exhaustion. It sat on the counter, glistening with the glaze I had made from scratch\u2014bourbon,… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":6660,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[39],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6689","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-echoes-of-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6689","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6689"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6689\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/6660"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6689"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6689"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6689"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}