At Christmas, My Dad Kicked My 8-Year-Old Daughter In The Face So Hard She Fell, Then Locked Her Outside In The Snow, Barefoot, While The Christmas Guests Watched Through The Window Like It Was Entertainment. My Brother Laughed And Said, "THIS PARTY IS FOR STRONG GRANDKIDS ONLY." People Clapped. Phones Recorded. They Didn't Know That I Took Those Recordings Somewhere Powerful. By Sunrise, Careers Were Suspended, Reputations Destroyed, And Lawyers Stopped Returning Calls...

By noon on Christmas Day, the economic ruin of the Holloway family was absolute.

Holloway Global Capital’s board of directors held an emergency 8:00 AM conference call and unanimously voted to terminate Marcus Holloway as Chief Executive Officer and Chairman, stripping him of all voting shares and stock options under the firm's moral turpitude clause.

By 10:00 AM, three major Swiss investment banks pulled over $1.2 billion in managed assets from the firm, causing the company’s stock to drop by eighty-four percent in off-hours trading.

Kellen’s corporate law firm issued a public statement at 11:00 AM stating that Kellen Holloway had been summarily fired, barred from entering company premises, and reported to the Illinois State Bar Association for immediate disbarment proceedings.

Victoria Sterling sat in my hospital room, watching the news ticker scroll across the screen while feeding Zuri fresh strawberries.

"They tried to post bail an hour ago," Victoria reported, setting her tablet down. "The magistrate judge reviewed the video footage from the party, deemed Marcus and Kellen an extreme flight risk and a danger to society, and denied bail entirely."

"They're staying in lockup?" I asked.

"Until trial," Victoria confirmed. "And because the assault occurred in front of public officials who actively encouraged it, the Department of Justice has designated this a federal hate and civil rights case. Marcus is facing up to fifteen years in federal prison without parole. Kellen is facing eight."

My phone buzzed on the table. It was a text from an unknown number.

I opened it. It was a frantic message from my stepmother, Marion—Marcus’s second wife, who had stood by sipping champagne while Zuri was kicked.

Laura, please! The federal marshals just seized the house! They frozen all our accounts! I don't even have money for food or a hotel! Please tell them I had nothing to do with this!

I typed a single response: