I laughed then.
It hurt so badly I almost felt sick.
That laugh made them uneasy.
Dad wiped his hands on his jeans as if touching me had dirtied him.
“You have until tonight. Transfer the money, or I call the hospital and tell them you’re mentally unstable. You think they’ll operate on a woman who’s confused, hysterical, and broke?”
There it was.
The real plan.
They weren’t just trying to take my money.
They were preparing to destroy my credibility if I resisted.
I slowly pulled my phone from my hoodie pocket.
The screen was cracked, but it was still alive.
The red recording bar glowed like a tiny heartbeat.
Evan saw it first.
His smile vanished.
“What is that?” he whispered.
I pressed one button.
The audio file uploaded.
Mom’s face drained.
“Claire…”
My voice came out rough.
“You should have checked who paid for this phone.”
Dad moved toward me, but the kitchen suddenly filled with a sharp ringtone.
My phone was calling someone.
Not 911.
Not a friend.
The name on the screen was Mara Voss — Attorney.
Dad froze.
Mara answered on speaker, calm as winter.
“Claire, I received the emergency upload. Are you safe?”
No one moved.
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