I had spent my military career putting men far tougher and far more intelligent than a spoiled trust-fund brat like him into the ground.
“Touch one more inch of this doorway and you will leave this building in handcuffs,” I said quietly.
For the first time since I had arrived, the arrogant grin disappeared from his face, replaced by genuine confusion.
Patricia attempted to laugh, yet I noticed her hand trembling as it clutched her expensive leather purse.
“Do you have any idea exactly who you are dealing with right now?” she demanded.
“Yes, I know exactly who you are, which is why I am being so polite right now,” I replied.
Abigail’s hand trembled inside mine while she rested her head against my arm.
“Mom, they have videos of me on their phones, they made me say things I did not mean just so they could claim I was mentally unstable,” she whispered.
My blood turned to ice, yet I maintained my composure while reaching into my jacket pocket and pulling out my smartphone.
Patricia narrowed her eyes, obviously suspicious.
“Who are you calling on that phone, Rachel?” she asked.
“I am not calling anyone,” I replied, lifting the screen so they could clearly see the recording application.
I angled the display toward them, revealing the timestamp proving it had been recording from the exact second I stepped into the room.
Every threat, every lie, and every confession they had made was preserved in crystal-clear high definition.
