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Renee’s face drained of color as flashing lights painted the walls in restless blue and red. “What did you do?” she whispered, panic creeping into her tone.
“I asked for witnesses,” I replied, pushing myself into a sitting position, my body protesting every movement. “And protection.”
Behind him came my attorney, Ms. Lowell, briefcase in hand, followed by two officers and a woman in a tailored blazer I recognized from the property transfer meeting the week before.
Victor rushed forward. “This is a misunderstanding,” he said quickly. “She fell. She’s confused.”
Chief Harmon held up a hand. “We’ll decide that,” he replied evenly.
Ms. Lowell knelt beside me, her voice calm as she helped me into a chair. “Everything is documented,” she said quietly. “Including the footage.”
Renee’s head snapped up. “What footage?”
“The living room camera,” Ms. Lowell answered, glancing toward the small, unobtrusive device mounted near the bookshelf. “Installed after the house went on the market. It streams automatically.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than the pain in my side.
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