My sister and I switched identities and made her husband repent for his actions.

Silence.

I crouched in front of Damian and lifted his chin.

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“You talk,” I said, “or I explain to the police why your three-year-old daughter is afraid to breathe when you enter a room.”

He broke first. Cowards always do.

Then Brenda. Then the mother.

I got everything on video. The beatings. The threats. The money they took from Lidia. The gambling. The slap to Sofía. The plan to drug me and get rid of me. Every filthy thing they thought they had hidden.

The next morning I walked into the prosecutor’s office with Sofía in one hand and the phone in the other.

At first, the police looked at me like they didn’t know what to make of me. Then they watched the videos. Then they saw the folder of evidence Lidia had been keeping in secret—photos, x-rays, prescriptions, dates, descriptions. She had been documenting her own destruction quietly, one bruise at a time.