He sla:pped me six times in front of his mistress, threw me out into the rain, and left me broken on the street. I called my father with one request: show him no mercy.

I swallowed the blood in my mouth.

“Dad.”

His voice changed immediately.

“What happened?”

I looked toward the house, imagining Grant and Vanessa drinking wine from my mother’s crystal glasses.

“He hit me,” I said. “Six times. For her. Then he threw me into the rain.”

Silence followed.

Not shocked silence.

Not confusion.

Something colder and more controlled.

Then my father asked, “Are you safe?”

“No.”