Lydia made a horrific, rattling sound in her throat. “What?”

“I work twelve-hour shifts!” Marcus shouted to the police, throwing his wife to the wolves without a second thought. “I pay the bills! She’s the one at home!

I told her to hire help and she refused! She’s the one who locked the doors! She’s the one who forces the girl to do everything!”

“You bastard!” Lydia shrieked, launching herself off the couch. She didn’t aim for me. She didn’t aim for the cops. She aimed for her husband, raking her fingernails across his cheek and drawing three bright lines of blood before the male officer took her to the floor.

“Get off me! He knew! He knew everything!” She thrashed wildly, screaming obscenities as he pinned her arms and pulled his cuffs.

The metallic click-click of the handcuffs closing around my mother’s wrists was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.