Marissa whispered, “Mom turned them off last week.”
“No,” I said. “She turned off the indoor cameras. The patio cameras are still active. Ryan installed them after Derek got drunk and backed into the neighbor’s fence last Fourth of July.”
Derek opened his mouth.
Ryan retrieved his phone. “Already downloading the footage.”
For the first time, Derek looked afraid.
But there was more.
For three years, I’d tolerated their petty cruelty: the false concern, jokes about my “delicate nerves,” Diane inviting Ryan’s ex to Christmas under the excuse of tradition, and Derek cornering women at family gatherings, daring them to protest.
They didn’t realize I now owned a self-defense academy, training nurses, teachers, single mothers, and corporate executives. I also collaborated with two local attorneys who helped harassment survivors document incidents before they escalated.
And Derek had escalated before twelve witnesses.
Police arrived eighteen minutes later.
