I didn’t look at Linda. I looked at Mark. “Did she fall?”
He flinched. Glanced at his mother. Said nothing.
Robert appeared—tall, authoritative, wrapped in an expensive robe. “Don’t interrogate my son. Emily is unstable. She’s been spiraling for months.”
When Emily tried to stand, she gasped in pain.
I gently lifted her sleeve.
Finger-shaped welts. Fresh. Older bruises fading beneath them.
This wasn’t an accident.
This was ongoing.
I wrapped my jacket around her shoulders. “We’re leaving.”
Linda blocked the doorway. “You can’t take her. She’s married. She belongs here.”
I let out a short, cold laugh. “She’s not property.”
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