Chapter 2 - The Morning Knock
Before Dad could lunge forward to grab my arm, a heavy, rhythmic pounding rattled the front door downstairs.
Mom’s frantic weeping cut off abruptly, replaced by the sound of the front lock turning. Heavy boots stepped across our foyer, accompanied by the distinct, unmistakable jingle of a police duty belt. Ellison County Sheriff’s Department.
“Open up! Federal and local warrant service!” a firm, authoritative voice called out from the living room.
Brandon stumbled backward out of my bedroom, his bare feet tangling in the edge of the hallway rug. He hit the wall with a dull thud, his eyes wide and unblinking. “No... no, no, this isn't happening. Dad, tell them it’s a mistake! Tell them I’m a student!”
Dad stood paralyzed in the doorway of my room, his face turning the color of curdled milk. The man who had slammed his fist on the dinner table just twelve hours earlier, demanding my absolute submission, now looked like an old, hollowed-out stranger. He looked at me—truly looked at me—for the first time in my life, seeing not a scapegoat, but the architect of his family's sudden, catastrophic undoing.
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“Ava,” Dad choked out, his voice a pathetic rasp. “You can’t do this to your own family. We raised you. We put a roof over your head.”
“You didn't raise me, Dad,” I replied, slinging my heavy duffel bag over my shoulder and walking straight past him. “You just kept me around to pay the bills.”
