“Are we leaving?”
“Yes. Right now.”
She moved fast, like she’d been waiting for permission.
While she packed, I called my sister, Rachel.
“I need you,” I said.
“What happened?”
“It’s Emma. I’m bringing her over.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Come now,” Rachel said. “I’ll handle the rest.”
When we went downstairs, the house looked painfully normal.
Megan smiled. “Good, you’re ready. Emma, why aren’t you dressed?”
“Change of plans,” I said.
Her smile faded. “What?”
“We’re leaving.”
Her tone sharpened. “Excuse me?”
“We’re not going to the recital.”
The air turned cold.
“You can’t just cancel,” she snapped. “My parents are on their way—”
“Move away from the door,” I said quietly.
She blinked. “What?”
“Your father has been hurting our daughter,” I said.
Silence.
Then she laughed, sharp. “That’s ridiculous.”
“She showed me bruises.”
“She’s clumsy,” Megan shot back.
“She told you,” I said. “Last month.”
Megan hesitated. “She exaggerated—”
“You dismissed it.”
Emma flinched behind me.
“Move,” I said.
“No,” Megan said firmly. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”
So I made the decision.
I picked Emma up.
Megan lunged forward. “Don’t you dare—”
I stepped past her, opened the door, and walked out.
“You come back right now!” she shouted. “I’ll call the police!”
“Do it,” I said. “I’m about to.”
In the car, Emma’s voice trembled. “Dad… I’m scared.”
“I know,” I said. “But you’re safe now.”
And for the first time in months, I meant it.
