Mark’s hand dropped.

For the first time, his arrogance cracked.

And I smiled.

Just a little.

The garage door opened with a scream of metal.

Emily lay on the floor beside an overturned chair, wrists bruised, mouth taped, her hair stuck to her cheeks. Alive.

Alive.

I ran toward her, but Ruiz caught my shoulder.

“Let the paramedics.”

“No.” Emily’s eyes found mine. “Mom.”

That single word destroyed every calm piece of me.

I knelt beside her while an officer cut the tape. Her first breath sounded like glass breaking.

Mark shouted from the driveway, “She’s unstable! She did this to herself!”

Vanessa burst into tears instantly—perfect tears for the cameras.

“She’s been having episodes,” she sobbed. “We were protecting her.”

Emily lifted one trembling finger toward the workbench.

“Phone,” she whispered. “He recorded me.”

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