Emily pulled the phone beneath her shoulder, protecting it with her body. “My husband hit me,” she added, her voice shaking now. “Please send someone.”
The kitchen went completely still.
Susan’s mouth parted.
Daniel froze.
The operator’s voice sharpened, though it remained gentle. “Emily, are you in immediate danger right now?”
Emily stared at Daniel.
He stared back.
“Yes,” she said.
Daniel’s face changed in that instant. The cold authority slipped away, replaced by panic. Not concern for her. Not remorse. Panic for himself.
“Emily, stop,” he said quickly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
The operator continued speaking, asking questions, telling Emily help was on the way. Emily answered as best she could. Her voice faded in and out as pain climbed higher, but she repeated the address twice.
Susan rushed to the sink and began wiping at the sauce on the cabinets with a dish towel.
Emily watched her.
That simple action revealed more than any confession could have.
Susan was not checking on her. She was not apologizing. She was cleaning evidence.
“Leave it,” Emily said.
Susan ignored her.
Daniel turned on his mother. “Mom.”
“What?” Susan hissed. “Do you want people walking in here seeing this mess?”
Emily’s pulse pounded in her ears. She looked toward the small black circle near the ceiling above the hallway arch.
The security camera.
She had installed it two years earlier after a package thief started targeting apartments in the complex. Daniel knew about it; she had pointed it out once, joking that it mostly recorded her burning toast and singing off-key while cleaning. He had barely cared.
Now he followed her gaze.
