…standing in our kitchen at 2:13 a.m., the timestamp glowing clearly in the corner of the screen.
He wasn’t calm.
He wasn’t composed.
He was shouting.
Not at me.
At Harper.
The audio crackled for a moment, then his voice filled the courtroom—sharp, cutting, unmistakable.
“Stop crying,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how much stress you cause? If …
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