Walton Merritt

“Returning to a Forgotten Doorstep” Emily sang with joy—now she had her very own flat.

“Returning to a Forgotten Doorstep” Emily sang with joy—now she had her very own flat.

**Diary Entry** I suppose I was just convenient. Until they needed me, I was forgotten. Oliver arrived

Edward gripped the steering wheel as he prepared to leave work, when suddenly his phone rang.

He’s Not Your Son! Emma and James stepped out of the maternity ward, beaming with joy. James cradled

Daniel came home late. Without a word, he kicked off his shoes in the hallway, hung up his coat, and

James hurried home faster than ever before. And who could blame him? For the past few days, something

**Martha and Her Daughter-in-Law** Martha Whitaker returned home at her usual unhurried pace.

Edward Whitaker had spent his entire adult life devoted to one purpose—raising his only daughter to be

“My daughter-in-law doesn’t even bother hiding how much she despises me,” she called me and