My security guards stood at the property line, arms crossed.

Daniel looked up at me where I stood on the porch — the exact spot he’d stood a week earlier. The reversal was total.

But as I watched, something shifted between them. Daniel turned his fury from me and locked it onto Vanessa.

He grabbed her arm, his voice a venomous hiss carrying over the quiet street. “This is your fault. If you hadn’t demanded this stupid party, she wouldn’t have known.”

He shoved her hard against her suitcase. Vanessa stumbled, caught herself — and instead of crying, slowly stood up straight.

The panic vanished from her face, replaced by a smile so cold it raised the hair on my arms. She looked past Daniel, straight at me, and mouthed a single phrase: I have the flash drive.