When the sentence was read out, Thomas turned to me and hissed, “You ruined this family.”

I held his stare. “No,” I said. “I just documented what you built.”

Aunt Evelyn took me home that evening. Not to my old house—to hers, where the walls were pale blue, the locks actually worked, and nobody raised their voice after dark.

Six months later, my cast was gone. My arm still ached when it rained, but I could hold a paintbrush again. I graduated with honors and took a scholarship to study digital forensics, because I’d learned early that the truth needs someone to protect it.