Peeling herself off the cold concrete cell floor – sweating out stale alcohol and feeling the bile rise in her stomach – Emily Redondo started to piece together the chain of events that had led to this moment.
On the surface, Redondo, 36, looked like any other suburban Texas mom, complete with a minivan full of toys, a busy schedule of dance classes for her girls – Shelby, 13, Becca, four, and Stella, two – and a beautiful newborn son Spenser.
But unlike most of the other moms on the school run, she was hiding a shameful secret that she was going to increasingly elaborate lengths to hide.
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Dining and Cooking