I stood there bleeding, holding my brother tight, knowing the small device in my pocket was about to tear down every lie she’d ever told.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear.

I ran to Leo’s room the second the elevator doors opened.

He was sitting up in bed, a bandage wrapped around his head, his favorite stuffed rabbit tucked under one arm. His face lit up when he saw me.

“Lily!”

I was at his side in two steps, gathering him carefully into my arms, avoiding the IV in his hand.

“I was so scared,” he mumbled into my shoulder. “She was yelling and then everything went dark.”

“I know,” I whispered, kissing the top of his head. “I’m here now. I’ve got you. She can’t hurt you ever again.”

I held him like that for a long time.

Just breathing him in. Listening to his heartbeat. Proving to myself he was real and alive and safe.

Marcus stood in the doorway, watching us.

I could feel his eyes on me, heavy with things he couldn’t say.

Eventually, a doctor came in. She was young, with a warm smile, and she explained that Leo had a mild concussion but no permanent damage. He’d need to stay overnight for observation, then he could go home.

Home.

The word tasted like ash in my mouth.

That house wasn’t a home. It was a crime scene. A museum of every bad thing Vanessa had ever done to us.

I couldn’t go back there. Not even if she was gone. The walls held too many memories.

“Where will we go?” I asked Marcus when the doctor left.

He ran a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted. “I… I booked a hotel. For a few days. Until I figure things out.”

“And Vanessa?”

He flinched at her name. “She’s been arrested. Charged with felony child abuse and assault. The detectives have the recording. They said it’s damning.”

“But?” I asked, because there was always a but with her.

Marcus sighed. “Her lawyer is already arguing that the recording was obtained illegally. That you violated her privacy by recording her in her own home. He’s filing for bail tomorrow morning.”

My blood ran cold.

“She’ll come after us,” I said. “If she gets out, she’ll come for Leo. She’ll come for both of us.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“With all respect,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended, “you’ve been saying that for three years. And look where we ended up.”

The words hung between us.

He looked away. I could see his jaw working, like he was chewing on glass.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “You have every reason not to trust me. Every reason to hate me. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. Not today. Not ever, probably.”

He took a breath.

“But I’m going to spend the rest of my life making this up to you. Even if you never speak to me again, I’m going to make sure you and Leo are safe. That’s the only thing that matters now.”

I wanted to believe him.

God, I wanted to.

But Vanessa had taught me better than to trust promises.

The next morning, everything got worse.

Vanessa made bail.

Her lawyer—some expensive, shark-like man in a tailored suit—had argued successfully that she was a “pillar of the community” with no prior record, and that the recording’s admissibility would be challenged at trial.

The judge had set her free with an ankle monitor and a restraining order: she couldn’t come within five hundred feet of me or Leo.

Five hundred feet.

That was nothing.

That was the length of a football field. She could stand at the end of our driveway and still technically be obeying the order.

I felt sick when Marcus told me.

We were in the hotel room. Leo was watching cartoons on the big bed, eating blue Jell-O, blessedly unaware of how close the monster still was.

“It’s just temporary,” Marcus was saying, pacing the carpet. “Her lawyer is good, but the prosecution is confident. Once they get the recording admitted—”

“Once?” I cut him off. “What do you mean once? She confessed on tape! We heard her!”

“The law is complicated, Lily. There are rules about evidence—”

“Rules?” I stood up, my hands shaking. “What about the rules about not beating children? What about the rules about not threatening to kill a seven-year-old boy if his sister tells the truth? Do those rules not matter?”

Marcus stopped pacing.

He looked at me, and for the first time, I didn’t just see regret in his face.

I saw fury.

Not at me. At the situation. At the system. At himself.

“You’re right,” he said. “All of it. You’re absolutely right. And I’m going to fix it.”

“How?”

He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through contacts.

“I’m going to call every lawyer I know,” he said. “I’m going to hire the best team money can buy. I’m going to make sure that woman spends every single day of the rest of her life behind bars. And if the legal system won’t do it… I’ll find another way.”

He sounded like the father I used to know.

The one who’d moved mountains to make sure I had the best of everything before Vanessa showed up.

But mountains took time to move.

And Vanessa wasn’t going to wait quietly while we built our case.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

An unknown number.

A text message.