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.”

“Ma’am, we received a report of an injured person being held against her will.”

There was a perfect pause. Then Vivian laughed and said that was ridiculous because her daughter-in-law was resting. When the officers asked where, she answered smoothly that I was in the guest room. I almost admired how fast she lied. Another voice, male and calm, told her that she would not mind showing them. Footsteps moved, a door opened, and silence followed. Then Daniel’s voice cracked.

“Officers, there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Five seconds later, the steel door unlocked. Light cut into the garage. Daniel stood there, pale as paper, with Vivian behind him, arms folded and face hard with calculation. Then she saw me sitting upright against the workbench, hospital gown torn, flash drive hanging from a chain around my neck. I was not unconscious. I was not begging.

“You little—”