I showed up ten minutes later with Mason, the locksmith, and legal paperwork in hand.
Diane looked at my face and, for the first time, seemed shaken by what she had done. My skin was red and swollen despite treatment, my eye puffy, burns visible down my neck.
She still said, “It was an accident.”
One of the officers answered before I could. “Ma’am, the video says otherwise.”
Eric turned to me. “Lena, please. Don’t do this.”
I met his eyes. “You watched your mother demand money, admitted you gave her my card, and stood there while she threw boiling coffee in my face.”
His shoulders dropped. “I didn’t think she’d actually—”
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