The red dress hung like a warning, its silk folds heavy with threat. My fingers trembled as I reached for the Polaroid, Liana's face blindfolded, her mouth gagged. I didn’t need words to understand the message. Phil wanted control, and he was willing to tear the world apart piece by piece until I gave it to him.
George stood behind me, silent. He'd seen it too. His hands clenched into fists, jaw twitching. "We're not doing this," he said.
"We have no choice."
"He doesn't get to dictate what you wear, where you go, or what you say. Not anymore."
"Liana's life is on the line."
George turned away, storming into the living room, his fingers running through his hair. I knew he was barely holding back the rage.
"We call Detective Rayford," he said finally.
I nodded, clutching the photo. "
