“No,” Victor replied. “This is a documented attempt at forced entry into property owned solely by my client, Ms. Alexis Carter.”
Priscilla stepped forward. “Young man, I don’t know who you think you are—”
“I am the attorney who will be filing an emergency restraining order before noon,” Victor said. “And if either of you takes one more step toward that door, I will advise building security to detain you until Miami-Dade police arrive.”
Ronald’s jaw worked.
He hated being challenged.
He hated it even more when the person challenging him had witnesses.
The intercom speaker crackled as I pressed the button.
“Ronald,” I said, my voice calm, “you need to leave.”
He looked up at the camera.
For the first time, his confidence cracked.
“What is this?” he demanded. “Who are these people?”
Victor turned slightly toward the camera, waiting.
I opened the door.
Not wide.
Just enough for Ronald to see me standing there in a cream silk blouse, black slacks, and bare feet. My hair was loose. My face was calm. I did not look broken. I did not look unstable. I did not look like the helpless woman he had spent years describing whenever I disappointed him.
