Then the narcissist’s survival reflex kicked in.

“Travis, honey, you scared me to death!” She forced a breathless laugh, stepping toward the camera. “A secret camera? You really shouldn’t spy on people. What you saw — it wasn’t what it looked like. Brooke was being so difficult, she knocked the glass over in a temper, I was only trying to teach her—”

“Stop talking.” The edge in my voice cut her off. Her mouth snapped shut.

“I saw everything,” I said, spacing each word. “I saw you unplug the feed. I saw you smash the glass. I saw you hold my crying son hostage while you tried to make my bleeding wife crawl on the floor like a dog. And I sent the video to Paige. She remembers, Mother. She remembers exactly who you are.”

Lorraine recoiled as if struck.

The mention of Paige — the realization that her facade had shattered not just with me but with her daughter — broke her. Her face twisted into ugly, venomous rage. The sweet grandmother was dead. The monster stood fully unmasked.