But they had heard enough.
Mr. Collins looked at Adrian’s injured wrist, then at my split lip, and the folder on the table.
“Isabella,” he said carefully, “do you want me to call the police?”
Adrian pointed at me. “She attacked me!”
I held up my phone. “After he forced his way in, grabbed my hair, and tried to make me sign away my inheritance.”
Mrs. Rivera stepped behind me and draped a sweater over my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how badly I was shaking until then.
Vanessa whispered, “Adrian, we should leave.”
But Adrian was too furious to think clearly.
He grabbed the folder and tried to push past me.
I moved faster. I snatched it back and threw it open on the floor, papers scattering everywhere. On the last page was my forged signature from another document, poorly copied and placed under a transfer agreement.
Mr. Collins bent down, picked it up, and his face hardened.
“This looks like attempted fraud,” he said.
Adrian’s confidence cracked.
For the first time in years, he realized I wasn’t alone.
The police arrived within minutes. I handed them the recording. Mrs. Rivera gave her statement. Mr. Collins explained what he had seen. Vanessa tried to claim she had only been outside, but my recording captured her laughing when Adrian grabbed me.
Adrian was arrested that night.
As they placed him in the patrol car, he looked at me with pure hatred.
“You’ll regret this,” he said.
I wiped the blood from my mouth. “No, Adrian. I regret not doing it sooner.”
The next morning, I woke up in my parents’ guest room because I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in theirs. The silence in the house felt heavy. My mother’s coffee cup still sat by the sink. My father’s glasses were still on the table.
For a moment, I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe.
Then my phone rang.
