I had just gotten home from the hospital with a shattered femur when my mother-in-law kicked my crutches out from under me. I hi:t the hardwood floor screaming in agony, only for my husband to grab me by the throat and whisper, “Mom wants the master bedroom, so you’re sleeping in the garage.”

“Careful,” I said. My voice was hoarse, but clear. “Everything you say keeps becoming evidence.”

Detective Alvarez stepped around Daniel. He looked older than I remembered, with silver at his temples and the same unreadable eyes. He took in my leg, the bruises on my throat, and the concrete dust on my palms.

“Mara,” he said quietly.

“Detective.”

Vivian snapped,

“Why is financial crimes here?”

Alvarez turned to her.

“Interesting first question.”

Daniel tried to step toward me, asking me to tell them everything had simply gotten out of hand. I looked at him and saw every lie beneath the face that once made me feel safe.

“You put your hands around my throat,” I said. “Your mother stole my phone. You locked me in here without medication. You planned to force me to sign over the house while I was in pain.”

Vivian pointed at me.