Chapter 11
The person at my door was not Derek.
He was still monitored.
It was his cousin, Mark.
Maya identified him within an hour.
He had done small jobs for Patricia for years.
Errands.
Deliveries.
Threats hidden inside favors.
Police arrested him with burglary tools in his trunk and a copy of my apartment floor plan.
The floor plan came from Derek’s insurance files.
Every ugly thing connected.
Derek’s attorney claimed Mark acted alone.
Mark disagreed after one night in jail.
He said Patricia paid him.
Patricia said Suzanne arranged it.
Suzanne said Derek asked them to “recover family property.”
Family property.
My apartment.
My documents.
My life.
The prosecutor added attempted burglary and conspiracy charges.
I sat in court watching Patricia finally lose her perfect posture.
She looked at me once.
Not sorry.
Furious.
“You ruined my son,” she mouthed.
I mouthed back, “No.”
Olivia elbowed me lightly.
“Worth it?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
The assault trial began two weeks later.
The emergency room nurse testified first.
She described my burns.
My trembling signature.
The way I almost said it was an accident and then stopped.
The photos appeared on the screen.
I looked at them because I needed to.
Derek looked away.
Coward.
Then Maya played the bookshelf camera footage from after I left.
Derek reading Natalie’s letter.
Patricia saying, “Why does Skylar have that?”
Suzanne asking, “Can she prove the payout?”
The jury listened.
Derek’s face hardened.
The prosecutor asked me what happened at breakfast.
I told them.
The coffee.
The sink.
The command.
Obey or leave.
Derek’s lawyer stood for cross-examination.
“Mrs. Vale, you were angry about money that morning, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You raised your voice?”
“No.”
“You refused to help family?”
I looked at the jury.
“I refused to hand over my bank card.”
May you like
He tried to twist that.
But truth stayed simple.
