My stepfather b:ea:t my twin sister and me every day because our fear gave him pleasure. One night, he b:ea:t us both unconscious, dragged us into the emergency room while my mother whispered, “They fell down the stairs.” The doctor examined the identical b:ruises on our bodies, locked the door, and told the security guard, “Call 911, immediately.”

The final file captured everything, including our mother saying, “Hit the quieter one first, because Faye watches too closely.”

Detective Martin stopped the audio, and her jaw tightened with pure professional fury.

But the worst discovery came from the documents I had stored beside the recordings.

Weeks earlier, I had searched the home office after hearing him argue about our trust money.

I had photographed forged medical reports declaring Chloe and me mentally incompetent, along with petitions naming Edric our permanent financial guardian.

He had planned to seize forty two million dollars the exact moment we turned eighteen.

Dr. Cooper returned with a hospital social worker and confirmed another crucial clue for the investigation.

Our injuries stretched across different stages of healing, proving this was not one single accident.

It was a systematic pattern of cruelty.