Officer Miller, a large, imposing man, looked at my left cheek, where the discoloration was still faintly visible beneath a layer of makeup. He didn’t look amused.

Marissa’s voice dropped to a glacial temperature. “One physical strike resulting in injury. One recorded threat of further violence. Multiple witness testimonies of prolonged emotional abuse.

And, most importantly, high-definition security footage of the entire incident, from the camera directly above your head.”

Evelyn froze. Her eyes tracked slowly upward.

Daniel turned his head, his gaze landing on the small black dome seamlessly integrated into the molding above the sweeping staircase.

I’d quietly authorized a comprehensive internal camera system six months earlier, right after Evelyn falsely accused one of the young maids of stealing a pair of sapphire earrings she’d actually pawned to cover a private gambling debt.