They chose to treat her as a servant on the first morning, before the network was actually theirs.

They chose the timing, the rag, the mother in the doorway, the whole doomed sequence — and every choice was theirs, made freely, in the belief that I was too soft or too frightened to do anything but comply.

My only contribution to their downfall was to be, quietly, not the person they had bet on.

They had wagered their entire plan on my weakness, and when the weakness turned out not to exist, the plan collapsed under its own weight, and took the family business’s best hope down with it.

I did not need to strike back.

I only needed to leave, and to let the natural consequences of who they were arrive on schedule.