The drive across town was conducted in absolute, suffocating silence.

Ethan sat in the passenger seat of my car, staring rigidly out the window, refusing to meet my eyes in the rearview mirror. But the moment we turned onto the private, tree-lined avenue leading toward Victoria’s sprawling estate, I saw the rigid posture falter. His shoulders slumped, and a flicker of genuine panic crossed his face.

He knew. Seeing those printed transcripts on his desk had shattered his illusion of absolute secrecy. He realized that the shield Victoria had promised him was about to be dismantled piece by piece.

I pulled my car up the circular gravel driveway of the grand Mediterranean-style villa and parked right beside Victoria’s pristine silver Mercedes.

Without waiting for Ethan, I cut the engine, stepped out into the crisp morning air, and walked straight up to the heavy mahogany front door. I didn't bother ringing the bell; I pressed down on the brass handle, and with a firm shove, pushed the door open.

Victoria was sitting in the sunlit conservatory at the back of the house, sipping her morning espresso in a silk bathrobe, a pristine silver tablet resting in her lap.

She looked up, startled by the uninvited intrusion, her sharp, aristocratic features tightening into an annoyed frown as she saw me standing in her foyer, with a silent, pale-faced Ethan trailing a few steps behind.

“Sarah?” Victoria set her coffee cup down with a sharp clatter, standing up to adjust her robe with an air of haughty superiority. “What is the meaning of this unannounced intrusion? Do you have no manners whatsoever? And why is Ethan looking like he’s walking to his own execution?”

I walked slowly into the sunlit conservatory, unzipping my leather briefcase with deliberate slowness.

“Good morning, Victoria,” I said, my voice carrying a quiet, dangerous cadence that made the older woman pause. “I’d skip the act. We’re past the point of polite pretenses.”

Victoria crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow in haughty defiance. “I have no idea what ridiculous melodrama you’ve concocted in your head now, Sarah. You were always too dramatic for your own good—just like when you ruined my son’s life.”

“My son,” I corrected sharply, stepping closer until I stood just a few feet away from her. “My son, whom you have been systematically grooming, enabling, and encouraging to commit acts of domestic violence behind my back.”