My husband thought I had fallen down his mother's front steps by accident, until he watched the security footage and noticed something moving behind me...

Two days later, I was discharged from the hospital. My fractured ribs throbbed with every breath, my left wrist was encased in fiberglass, and my right knee was heavily braced. Every movement was a chore, but nothing compared to the suffocating knot of dread tightening in my chest.

Lorraine had posted bail within twenty-four hours. A wealthy family friend and high-profile defense attorney, Marcus Sterling, had secured her release on a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bond. The judge had issued a strict temporary restraining order barring her from coming within five hundred yards of me or our residence, but the legal paper felt flimsy—a paper shield against a woman who had calculatedly hooked a cane around my legs to watch me break.

Nolan drove us home to our two-story house on the outskirts of the city. The familiar white picket fence and trimmed hedges, which had once felt charming and safe, now seemed exposed, vulnerable to prying eyes.

"I hired a private security team," Nolan said as he helped me out of the passenger seat. He supported my weight with gentle firmness, guiding my crutches along our paved driveway. "They’ll have a patrol car stationed down the block twenty-four hours a day. I also changed the keypad codes, re-keyed every deadbolt, and added motion sensors to the back patio."

"Is Paige going to stay with us?" I asked, panting slightly as we navigated the small front steps. The simple sight of stairs made my heart race, cold sweat beading on my forehead.

"Yes," Paige said, emerging from the front door carrying a glass of water. "I moved my overnight bag into the guest room. I’m not letting you two out of my sight until Lorraine is behind bars for good."

Inside, the house was warm and quiet, but the comfort was an illusion. Nolan helped me onto the living room sofa, arranging pillows behind my back to cushion my bruised ribs. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of wind through the maple trees outside made me flinch.

"You need to rest, Clara," Nolan murmured, kissing my forehead. "The doctors said stress will only slow down the bone healing."

"How can I rest, Nolan?" I whispered, tears pricking my eyelids. "Every time I close my eyes, I feel the cane catching my ankle. I see her standing over me, waiting to see if I'm breathing. She's free out there. She has money, she has Sterling, and she has nothing left to lose."

As dusk settled over the neighborhood, casting long, bruised shadows across the living room carpet, Nolan sat at the kitchen counter with his laptop, reviewing the family trust audits. Paige was making soup on the stove. Everything appeared domestic, almost normal.

Then, at 9:15 PM, the living room security console chimed softly.

*Motion detected: Rear Gate.*

Nolan froze. Paige stopped stirring the pot.

We all looked toward the French doors leading to the dark backyard patio. Outside, the motion-sensor floodlight suddenly blazed to life, illuminating the patio furniture and the tall wooden fence.