Ich starrte sie an.
Hayes rose from his chair.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“One witness says she told him she’d make sure he regretted insulting her.”
I shook my head so sharply that pain shot through my face.
A small cry escaped my throat.
Hayes immediately came to my side.
“Marin, don’t move.”
I grabbed the pen.
I NEVER SAID THAT.
Brooks read it.
“I understand.”
I wrote again.
WHO SAID IT?
The detective paused.
Then answered.
“Your husband’s uncle. His wife. And a family friend named Patricia Vale.”
Hayes stared at her.
“Patricia wasn’t even near the patio.”
Brooks made a note.
“Then that’s something we’ll examine.”
I looked at my husband.
He looked devastated.
Not surprised anymore.
Just devastated.
His family wasn’t merely protecting Kale.
They were building a story in which I had somehow caused my own injuries.
After Detective Brooks left, Hayes walked into the hallway.
I heard him speaking quietly on the phone.
Then his voice rose.
“No, Dad. I’m not discussing a settlement.”
A pause.
“She needs reconstructive surgery.”
Another pause.
“Don’t you dare call her injuries an unfortunate misunderstanding.”
I closed my eyes.
His voice became colder.
“You’ve had twenty-four hours to tell the truth. Instead, you’ve coached witnesses.”
A long silence.
Then Hayes said, “If you want to talk to me, you can do it through my attorney.”
The call ended.
He returned looking exhausted.
I held out my hand.
He took it.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then I reached for the notepad.
WHAT DID HE WANT?
Hayes sighed.
“To offer us money.”
I stared.
“Two million dollars.”
My hand went still.
“He said he’d pay for every medical expense and provide additional compensation if we agreed not to pursue any claims against Kale.”
I looked at him.
“There’s more,” he said.
Of course there was.
“He wants you to sign a statement saying the injury resulted from an accidental recreational incident.”
I felt something inside me go cold.
A recreational incident.
That was what they wanted to call it.
Not an assault.
Not an act of violence.
Not a deliberate throw that shattered my face.
An accident during a family game.
I wrote slowly.
TELL HIM NO.
Hayes read it.
Then smiled sadly.
“I already did.”
I squeezed his hand.
He leaned forward and rested his forehead against mine, careful not to touch the injured side of my face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I knew what he meant.
He was sorry for bringing me into his family’s orbit.
Sorry for asking me to keep trying.
Sorry for believing their cruelty had limits.
I couldn’t tell him that none of this was his responsibility.
Not with my jaw wired and my face swollen.
So I wrote something else.
DON’T APOLOGIZE FOR THEIR CHOICES.
He read it.
And for the first time since the attack, he cried.
That afternoon, Evelyn returned with a folder.
She placed it on the table beside my bed.
“I’ve spoken with a forensic video specialist,” she said.
Hayes looked up.
“About the cameras?”
“Yes. We may be able to establish whether footage was exported or deleted.”
“How?”
“Through system records, backups, and any devices that received copies. But we need lawful access.”
Hayes nodded.
Evelyn continued.
“Your grandfather’s old security system had an unusual feature.”
“What feature?”
“A separate archival recorder.”
Hayes frowned.
“I don’t remember that.”
“It was installed after a burglary attempt.”
“Where?”
“In the service utility room.”
Hayes sat forward.
“That room was renovated.”
“Was the recorder removed?”
“I don’t know.”
Evelyn opened the folder.
Inside was an old maintenance diagram.
A small rectangle had been circled in red.
ARCHIVE UNIT B — INDEPENDENT POWER SUPPLY
Hayes studied it.
“If that’s still there…”
“It may contain footage your father doesn’t know exists.”
I watched them.
For the first time, the Mercers’ confidence seemed less absolute.
They could control the guests.
They could pressure witnesses.
They could hide a metal ball.
But they might not control every camera that had watched the backyard.
Evelyn closed the folder.
“We need to be careful. Nobody should enter the property without permission or legal authority.”
Hayes nodded.
“Detective Brooks needs to know.”
“I’ve already contacted her.”
I reached for the notepad.
WILL THEY FIND IT?
Evelyn looked at me.
“I don’t know, Marin.”
Then she added, “But someone worked very hard to make sure the obvious evidence disappeared. That usually means the evidence matters.”
By evening, my face had begun swelling again.
The nurse adjusted my medication.
Hayes helped me drink a little water.
Every swallow hurt.
I hated needing assistance.
I hated the way my body betrayed me with exhaustion.
I hated that the woman who had built a company from nothing now needed someone to hold a cup against her lips.
Hayes seemed to sense my frustration.
