My sister p.u.s.h.ed me down

“Yes.”

The silence after that answer was horrifying.

My mother’s face lost color first.

Then Khloe’s.

Because both of them realized at exactly the same moment that Marcus was not just listening as a husband.

He was building a timeline.

A legal one.

Then came the sentence that changed the room forever.

“Good,” Marcus said coldly.

“The recording captured all of it.”

Khloe’s confidence shattered instantly.

“Marcus, wait—”

“No,” he cut in.

“You left my pregnant wife bleeding on the floor to protect the daughter who assaulted her.”

My father finally stood up.

Too late.

Because outside, faint through the front windows, came the sound none of them expected to hear so quickly.

Sirens.

More than one.

And for the first time since I hit the stairs, my mother looked afraid.

Not for me.

For herself.

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