He didn’t notice the small green light blinking inside the smoke detector above the refrigerator.

Three weeks earlier, I’d installed a high-definition 4K camera disguised as a fire-safety device. It didn’t record to a hard drive in the house—it was a live-link system.

Every time it detected a decibel level above eighty, or a sudden violent motion, it uploaded the footage straight to a secure, encrypted cloud server managed by my brother.

The camera had captured everything. The initial shove. The verbal abuse. The way Ethan waited three full minutes before calling 911, spending those minutes wiping his own fingerprints off the rolling pin.

While I was being loaded into the ambulance, the video was already being downloaded by a team of private investigators and the district attorney’s office.

Ethan thought he was taking me to a hospital to hide his crime. He didn’t realize he was delivering me to my headquarters.