I listened to what they were saying now that I was out of the room. And then, I heard Diane say six words that made me forget about the pain entirely. I unlocked the door and walked back out. Mark looked up, annoyed. “Ready to apologize?” I didn’t say a word. I just held up the monitor and pressed ‘Play’. The color drained from Diane’s face instantly. Mark dropped the kettle. Because the voice on the recording wasn’t just talking about the water… she was talking about what really happened to Mark’s ex-girlfriend, Anna.

Should’ve done the same to that little witch Anna when she started mouthing off. Too bad she slipped down those stairs before I could get to her,” Diane’s voice crackles through the speaker, casual, amused.

Mark stares at me, eyes wide, his skin going pale as if the walls around him are caving in. Diane’s lips part, but no sound comes. She looks behind her, then back to me, realizing the room has turned colder than the smog she’s been filling it with.

“You—you recorded me?” she stammers, her cigarette dangling from her fingers, trembling now.

“I didn’t have to,” I say calmly, my arm still throbbing beneath the soaked towel I’d wrapped around it. “This baby monitor has been here all day. I left it on because your smoke makes the baby cough. But I guess it caught more than that.”

Mark lunges toward me, but I back up fast, pointing to my pocket. “Try it. The backup file’s already uploading to the cloud. Oh, and I texted my sister. If I go silent for ten minutes, she’s calling the cops with everything.”

Diane bolts upright. “You little—”

“I begged you,” I hiss. “I begged you to stop smoking around the baby. I begged Mark to grow a spine. And this? This is what you do?”

Mark turns on Diane. “Why the hell would you say that? Are you insane?”

Diane glares at him. “Don’t act like you didn’t know! You were the one who told me Anna was threatening to go to the cops—what did you think happened to her?”

Mark’s lips tremble. “I didn’t think you meant—”

“You knew,” I whisper. “You knew, and you still brought her into this house. Around our child.”

My knees nearly buckle from the surge of adrenaline crashing down. The monitor is still in my hand, the screen blinking red. I hold it tighter. “So what was it with Anna? An argument? She found out something about you two? Or just didn’t ‘respect’ you enough either?”

Mark runs his hands over his face. “It was an accident. She tripped.”

I laugh, bitter and shaking. “Is that what you told the police? Because you never even called them, did you? You told people she ran off. Said she left you.”

He says nothing. That silence is louder than a scream.

Diane speaks again, voice sharp, cracking like old glass. “You think you’re clever, huh? Trying to trap us? This little game won’t work. Who’s going to believe you? You’re just a housewife. A burned, unstable, ungrateful—”

“I have your voice. Saying she ‘slipped before you could get to her.’ Want to hear it again?”

The air thickens. The baby’s soft whimper crackles over the monitor’s speaker, grounding me. Diane takes a step back. Mark grabs her arm.

I step forward. “You need to leave. Now. Both of you.”

Mark laughs, cold and brittle. “This is my house.”

“Funny,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket, “Because according to the emergency call I made before I stepped out of the bathroom, it’s about to be full of people in uniform. I told them I was scalded by my husband, in front of our child. And I sent them the file.”

Diane lunges for me, but Mark catches her mid-step. “Stop! STOP!”

The doorbell rings.

Mark freezes. Diane jerks her head toward the hallway. “No. No. No. You’re bluffing.”

I don’t answer. I walk toward the door and open it.

Two police officers step inside, followed by a third in plain clothes. One of the uniformed officers speaks first.

“We got your call, ma’am. Are you the one who was injured?”

I pull the towel back, revealing angry, raised blisters. The younger officer flinches.

“Yes. My husband poured boiling water on me. His mother witnessed it. I have audio proof. There’s more on the monitor—statements about another woman who went missing.”

The plainclothes officer steps forward. “We’re going to need to hear that, and we’ll be taking statements. Is the baby alright?”

I nod quickly. “He’s in the nursery. Door closed. The smoke… he’s been coughing.”

The older cop glances at Diane, who’s now pale as a ghost. “Ma’am, please have a seat. We’ll need to ask you some questions.”

“No, this is all twisted!” she snaps. “She’s trying to turn my son against me. This is her revenge!”

Mark’s voice is hollow. “Mom… just stop.”

He doesn’t protest when the officers separate them. He doesn’t resist when they read him his rights. He looks straight at me, but his eyes are glass. For the first time in years, I don’t flinch.

I watch as they cuff him.

Diane screams that it’s all lies, but they calm her down enough to walk her out. She doesn’t look back. The door closes behind them.

My knees finally give, and I sit on the cold floor.

Another officer brings over an EMT. She gently inspects my burns, her touch light, her words softer than anything I’ve heard in this house for months. “You’re going to need treatment. These aren’t minor. But you did the right thing.”

“I should’ve done it sooner,” I say. “I should’ve left.”

The plainclothes officer kneels beside me. “We’re going to look into what you mentioned. About the other woman. If that audio’s real… it might be bigger than what happened today.”

I nod. “It’s real. Everything she said. She bragged.”

He pauses. “You’re lucky. This could’ve ended… differently.”

I look toward the nursery. My baby’s stirring now, fussing softly. I move to stand.

The EMT helps me up. “Do you have someone you can stay with?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “My sister. She’ll come get us.”

She already knows. She’s probably already in the car.

Hours pass in a blur—hospital lights, gauze, questions, child protective services to ensure the baby is safe, a temporary restraining order issued that same night. I answer everything. I show them the messages Mark sent over the past weeks—the threats, the apologies, the manipulation. I hand over the recording. I give names. I don’t hold back.

By the time my sister arrives, my burns are bandaged and my baby is bundled in fresh clothes, his cheeks rosy and eyes wide. He smiles at her voice.

“You’re safe now,” she whispers to both of us as she hugs me.

We drive away as the sky begins to lighten. I watch the city pass through the window, the streets empty, the world beginning again.

For the first time in months, my chest doesn’t feel like it’s collapsing.

Back at her house, I settle my baby down. My sister helps me into bed. I stare at the ceiling.

There is no smoke.

No kettle.

No laughter behind my back.

Only silence.

Only peace.

And tomorrow, there will be police reports. Court filings. Maybe press inquiries, if the story breaks. A trial. But tonight, I sleep without fear.

Because they didn’t see what was behind me.

Strength.

Proof.

A voice that refused to be silenced.

And I’m never going back.