door.
Then officers entered.
Not chaotically.
Purposefully.
Body-camera footage showed clear instructions.
Hands visible.
Guests ordered away from the table.
Marcus demanding to know who had authorized the entry.
Sylvia shouting about attorneys.
The mistress frozen in her seat with a napkin across her lap.
Chloe’s missing shoe beside the sideboard.
Despite the money, the polished furniture, the crystal, and the catered meal, the room looked cheap once truth entered it.
Marcus tried charm first.
Then indignation.
Then status.
Finally, fear.
Sylvia held out longer.
Women like her often do.
