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“Take off that dress right now!” My mother-in-law screamed at my 7-year-old daughter during the grand Christmas banquet at the Waldorf Astoria. “But it was Daddy’s last gift to me,” she sobbed, clutching the $100,000 custom Parisian silk dress. My sister-in-law stepped forward, violently grabbing the collar and trying to rip it right off her body. “Then it’s property of this family. You and your cursed mother killed my brother for his money,” she sneered, her nails scratching my daughter's shoulder. They thought being a grieving widow made me weak and easy to control. They were wrong. They had no idea this Christmas night would be the last time they ever breathed as free citizens.