But Adrian was too furious to think clearly.
He grabbed the folder and tried to push past me.
I moved faster. I snatched it back and threw it open on the floor, papers scattering everywhere. On the last page was my forged signature from another document, poorly copied and placed under a transfer agreement.
Mr. Collins bent down, picked it up, and his face hardened.
“This looks like attempted fraud,” he said.
Adrian’s confidence cracked.
For the first time in years, he realized I wasn’t alone.
The police arrived within minutes. I handed them the recording. Mrs. Rivera gave her statement. Mr. Collins explained what he had seen. Vanessa tried to claim she had only been outside, but my recording captured her laughing when Adrian grabbed me.
Adrian was arrested that night.
As they placed him in the patrol car, he looked at me with pure hatred.
“You’ll regret this,” he said.
I wiped the blood from my mouth. “No, Adrian. I regret not doing it sooner.”
The next morning, I woke up in my parents’ guest room because I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in theirs. The silence in the house felt heavy. My mother’s coffee cup still sat by the sink. My father’s glasses were still on the table.
For a moment, I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe.
Then my phone rang.
It was Mr. Delgado.
“Isabella,” he said, “you need to come to my office. There’s something your father prepared.”
Two hours later, wearing sunglasses to hide my swollen eyes and a scarf to cover bruises, I sat across from him as he handed me an envelope with my father’s handwriting.
Inside was a letter.
