The blood from the cut above my eye began to blur my vision, but I could still see the cold, calculating look on my daughter’s face. Ashley didn’t drop the handbag. She clutched it so tightly her knuckles were white, her chest heaving as she looked down at me. I was on my knees on the cold marble floor of the lobby, one hand pressed against the searing pain on my cheek, trying to process the absolute shattering of my world.

I imagined him walking through those doors and seeing me sitting there with a swollen face.

He would have been furious.

But beneath his anger would have been something worse.

Heartbreak.

He had adored Ashley.

He would never have believed she could do this.

Neither had I.

The minutes passed slowly.

Mr. Alvarez stayed nearby.

He offered to call someone for me.

I shook my head.

There was nobody I wanted to hear this from a stranger.

Especially not before I had managed to understand it myself.

Then the glass entrance doors opened.

Two uniformed police officers stepped inside.

A man and a woman.

The male officer approached the reception desk.

“We received a report of an assault.”

Mr. Alvarez gestured toward me.

“This is the resident who was injured.”

The female officer came to my side.

“Ma’am, can you tell me what happened?”

I lowered the cold pack.

Her eyes moved immediately to my swollen cheek.

“Do you need medical assistance?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Are you having trouble seeing?”

“My eye hurts, but I can still see.”

She nodded and continued speaking gently.

Across the lobby, Ashley had gone pale.

Derek stood beside her, his shoulders rigid.

Mr. Alvarez began explaining what he had witnessed.

He pointed toward the elevator.

Then toward the spot beside the mailboxes where Ashley had struck me.

The male officer turned to look at them.

Ashley started talking immediately.

“It was a misunderstanding.”

Derek placed a hand on her shoulder.

“There’s been a family disagreement over some documents.”

I watched the officer’s expression.

He did not appear impressed.

“What documents?”

Derek hesitated.

“Private family papers.”

I looked toward Ashley’s tote bag.

Derek looked there too.

Then something strange happened.

While the female officer asked me another question, Derek stepped slightly behind Ashley.

His hand moved toward the opening of her bag.

At first, I assumed he was retrieving his phone.

Then I recognized the folded sheets.

The property transfer documents.

He pulled them out carefully.

His eyes flicked toward the reception desk.

He began sliding the papers inside his coat.

My heart started pounding.

Why was he hiding them?

Why, with police standing only a few feet away, was he still so desperate to control those documents?

I opened my mouth.

But before I could speak, the male officer turned.

His eyes dropped to Derek’s hand.

He took a step forward.

“Sir.”

Derek froze.

The papers remained halfway inside his jacket.

The officer’s expression sharpened.

“Keep your hands where I can see them.”

For one terrifying second, nobody moved.

Then the officer extended his hand.

And Derek looked at Ashley as though the papers he was hiding might destroy them both.