Chapter 3
The bright, airy atmosphere of the birthday party felt suddenly suffocating. The vivid colors of the balloons and the frosting on the cake seemed grotesque against the reality of the cruelty that had just transpired.
Sabrina scrambled to her feet, her rosy face contorted with pure hatred. "You have no right to come onto this property and lay hands on me! That child is a disrespectful brat! She was ruining Bella's party!"
"She was sitting quietly in a chair!" Sarah fired back, her voice echoing off the large, white-paneled house. She pointed a trembling finger at the Grandmother. "And you! You held her down! You are a monster!"
"Watch your tone, Sarah," the Grandmother snapped, recovering her aristocratic composure, though her voice wavered slightly. "You live in a house my son paid for. You eat food bought with our family's money. A little discipline is exactly what that wild girl needs."
"Your son is dead," Sarah stated coldly. "And you have used his memory to abuse us for the last time. We are leaving."
Sarah turned, keeping a protective arm wrapped firmly around Grace's trembling shoulders. She was halfway to the gate when a small voice broke through the tension.
"Aunt Sarah. Wait."
Connor stepped forward from behind the floral arrangements. The ten-year-old boy looked terrified, his fair skin pale and his blue eyes wide. But his hands were steady as he raised the digital tablet, the screen still glowing brightly in the afternoon sun.
Sabrina’s eyes locked onto the device. Panic flared instantly in her expression. She realized he had recorded the entire assault. "Connor! Give me that tablet right now!"
Sabrina lunged forward, her manicured hands outstretched, but Sarah moved with lightning speed. She stepped aggressively in front of the boy, using her body to completely block Sabrina's path.
"Touch him, and I will break your jaw," Sarah promised, her voice a low, lethal whisper.
Sabrina froze, nursing her already throbbing cheek.
Connor looked up at Sarah. He leaned in close, pulling the tablet tight against his polo shirt. His voice was an urgent, strained whisper that only Sarah could hear.
"The first video isn’t the worst one," Connor breathed.
Sarah’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, Connor?"
"I was playing a game on it yesterday in Grandmother's study," the boy whispered rapidly, his eyes darting nervously toward the two older women. "I hid under the desk when they came in. I left it recording. You have to take it. You have to see what they said about Uncle David."
Uncle David. Sarah’s late husband. Grace’s father.
Sarah’s blood ran cold. She reached out and took the tablet from Connor’s hands. "Come with us, Connor. Get in the car."
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"He is not going anywhere with you!" Grandmother shouted, stepping forward. "He is my grandson!"
"If he stays here, you'll hurt him too," Sarah said, grabbing Connor's hand. "Run!"
