…of their monstrous charade. My finger had pressed ‘record’ the moment Mason stepped into the room. This was the evidence I needed, not just to protect myself, but to dismantle the illusion they worked so hard to maintain. I knew the truth had to come out, and this time, I wasn’t going to let guilt or fear hold me back.
Once the commotion settled, I stumbled into the guest bathroom, locking the door behind me. My breaths were shallow, each inhale accompanied by a sharp pain from my battered ribs. I took a moment to steady myself, splashing cold water onto my face, watching the diluted blood swirl down the drain like remnants of the life I was determined to leave behind.
I had a plan. The recording was my ticket to freedom, my shield against their manipulation. With the evidence secured, I sent the file to Evan, my ever-supportive anchor, ensuring its safety. He had been my confidant, the one who saw beyond my fake smiles and recognized the distress I tried so hard to conceal.
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