“I was released early.” Corinne’s voice dropped. “Why is my daughter afraid to let me into my own home?”

Casey lowered one hand, and Corinne saw it: a deep purple bruise wrapped around the child’s left wrist.

“What happened to you, my love?” She knelt down.

“She fell on the playground at kindergarten,” Gwendolyn said, smooth and fast, before the girl could speak. Casey stared at the floor. Ross already had his phone up, recording.

“She’s been unstable ever since you abandoned her,” Gwendolyn added, bumping her shoulder into Corinne as she passed.

Corinne recognized the provocation for exactly what it was. She quietly started an audio recording on her military smartwatch and kept her voice level.

“Casey. Did someone hurt you?”

Ross stepped in and took the girl roughly by the arm. “Come upstairs, honey. The adults in your real family need to talk.”

Corinne crossed the threshold anyway.

Inside, every family photograph, every decoration, every memento was gone. Above the fireplace hung a new portrait: Ross, Gwendolyn, and Casey in matching sweaters.