Marcus nodded once, a look of profound respect crossing his face. “All right then. Here is what we do. Clara, as the property owner and the direct victim, you have the legal standing to file an immediate emergency ex-parte protective order. I’ve already drafted the paperwork. A judge will sign it by two o’clock today. That will legally forbid Diane, Vanessa, or any third party acting on their behalf from coming within one thousand feet of you, Ethan, your home, or your workplace.”

“What about bail?” I asked, touching the bandage over my eye. “Can they get out?”

“Vanessa has an outstanding bench warrant for probation violation out of Marion County—something about passing bad checks at a luxury boutique six months ago,” Marcus said with a cold smirk. “She isn’t getting bail anytime soon. The judge will remand her immediately. Diane might scrape together enough through a bail bondsman if someone puts up property, but with these charges, the bond will be at least two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. She doesn’t have the liquid cash.”

“She’ll try to call,” Ethan said.

Right on cue, Ethan’s phone began to vibrate violently across the plastic tray table.

The screen lit up with a collect call notification:

*INMATE CALL: DIANE VANCE – COUNTY CORRECTIONAL FACILITY. ACCEPT CHARGES?*

Ethan stared at the glowing screen for three long beats.

“Put it on speaker,” I whispered.

Ethan slid his finger across the glass and pressed the speaker icon.

“Ethan!” Diane’s voice tore through the tiny speaker, raspy, frantic, and shrill. “Ethan, you have to get down here right now! They took my shoes! They put me in a holding pen with junkies and murderers! Tell the guards who you are! Call Judge Harrison—you went to school with his son! Ethan, do you hear me?!”

Ethan held the phone near his mouth, his face expressionless.

“I hear you, Diane,” he said.

There was a brief pause on the line, the background noise of heavy steel doors clanging shut echoing through the receiver. “Why are you calling me Diane? Ethan, this is your mother! Have that little bitch drop the charges immediately! Do you know what they’re saying? They’re talking about state prison! For me! Your mother!”

“You are where you belong,” Ethan said quietly.

“What did you say?” she choked out.

“You beat my wife. You broke into our home with tools to rob her blind. You will never set foot in my house again. You will never speak to Clara again. And if you ever call this number again, I will add a charge of witness intimidation to your indictment.”

“Ethan! You can’t do this to me! I made you!” she screamed, her voice cracking into hysteria. “Vanessa is hyperventilating in the next block! She needs her medication! You pay our bail right now!”

“You have the wrong number,” Ethan said.

He tapped the red button, ending the call, and immediately blocked the facility’s routing exchange.

The hospital room went completely silent again. Ethan took my hand, his palm warm and steady, and kissed my bruised knuckles.

Chapter 4 – The Jailhouse Demands
The discharge process took another three hours. By the time we stepped through the front door of our home, the sun was sinking behind the treeline, casting long, bruised shadows across the front lawn.