It arrived without warning on a bleak Tuesday morning. A plain, brown box on the Parker family's doorstep, bearing no return address—only the scars of its journey. Inside, tangled in yellowed newspaper, lay an antique porcelain doll. Its glassy blue eyes, framed by impossibly delicate lashes, held a vacant yet watchful gaze. A faded red dress, its lace brittle with age, did little to soften its...
