I collapsed to my knees during an asthma attack, fighting for air while my younger sister held my inhaler just out of reach. She smirked and said, “Gasp, loser.” My parents stood by and did nothing. Today, in court, when the judge said, “Before we begin, let’s watch a family video,” she started shaking—and then screaming.

“Your Honor, the defense would like to present authenticated digital evidence. Starting with a family video.”

The judge nodded.

The lights dimmed.

And the screen lit up with the moment I had spent half a lifetime trying to forget.

Camille inhaled sharply. Her face drained. Her hands shook against the wooden table.

And before the video even finished, she whispered, “No… no… please stop…”

The courtroom leaned forward, breath held.

The real unraveling was just beginning.

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