He sla:pped me six times in front of his mistress, threw me out into the rain, and left me broken on the street. I called my father with one request: show him no mercy.

I looked toward the house, imagining Grant and Vanessa drinking wine from my mother’s crystal glasses.

RealEstate

“He hit me,” I said. “Six times. For her. Then he threw me into the rain.”

Silence followed.

Not shocked silence.

Not confusion.

Something colder and more controlled.

Then my father asked, “Are you safe?”

“No.”

“Send me your location.”

I did.

His next words were colder than the storm.

“Listen carefully, Claire. Do not go back inside. Do not speak to him. Do not answer him if he calls. I am sending security and a doctor.”

I closed my eyes.

“Dad…”

“Yes?”

“Show no mercy.”