Chapter 7
Two days before the plea deadline, Tyler called me from jail.
I almost didn’t answer.
But something made me hit accept, my finger hovering over the record button on my phone.
“Mia,” he said, his voice slurred, like he’d been crying.
“Baby, please. You have to drop the charges. I can’t do 15 years in here. I’ll die.”
I said nothing, just held the phone to my ear, the record light blinking red.
“I’ll give you everything,” he begged.
“All my stuff, the car, the retirement account. I’ll sign the divorce papers today, no fight. I’ll never bother you again. Just please, tell the prosecution you made it up. Tell them it was a mistake.”
I still said nothing.
He got angry then, his voice rising, the mask slipping.
“Listen to me, you ungrateful bitch. If you don’t drop these charges, when I get out, I’m gonna find you. I’m gonna make you regret the day you were born. I’m gonna burn that stupid condo to the ground with you in it. You hear me?”
He hung up.
I saved the recording, my hands shaking a little, and sent it straight to Lila and Mark.
Lila called back 10 minutes later, laughing.
“Perfect. That’s witness tampering, felony harassment, and a terroristic threat. All added to the list of charges. He just added at least three more years to his sentence, all by himself.”
Mark called right after her, his voice furious.
“I’m filing a motion to revoke any possibility of bail for all three. If Tyler’s making threats from jail, Karen and Jenna could be just as dangerous. No way they get out before trial.”
The next day, Jenna took the plea deal.
Three years probation.
1,000 hours of community service working with domestic violence victims.
A permanent restraining order against me for life.
In exchange, she testified against Tyler and Karen, giving the prosecution every detail of the plan, every conversation, every time they’d talked about hurting me.
Lila sent me a copy of her statement.
It was brutal.
Jenna admitted Karen had come up with the plan to steal the condo a year earlier.
Admitted Tyler had been practicing what he’d say to pressure me for months.
Admitted they’d all laughed after he hit me, that they’d thought I’d be too scared to call the cops.
Admitted none of them had ever cared about me at all.
I read it once, then deleted it.
I didn’t need to carry their words with me anymore.
Karen refused the first plea deal the prosecution offered—10 years.
She screamed at her lawyer, said she’d rather go to trial than spend a day in prison.
Then she found out Jenna had testified against her.
I got the call from Lila at 9 p.m. that night.
“Karen just took the deal. Eight years. No parole. She’s pleading guilty to all charges. She’s broken, Mia. She kept screaming that Jenna betrayed her, that her own daughter threw her under the bus.”
I sat on my balcony, the city lights glowing below me, and thought about family.
About how Tyler, Karen, and Jenna had called themselves “family” while they stole from me, hit me, laughed at my pain.
About how real family didn’t do that.
Real family was Mark, showing up at the hospital with coffee and a plan.
Real family was Mrs. Lopez, feeding me flan and telling me stories about my dad.
Real family was Lila, fighting for me like I was her own sister.
The people who called themselves my family had never been family at all.
They’d just been leeches, using me for what they could get.
And now they were gone.
All that was left was the real thing.
I smiled, pouring myself a glass of iced tea, and watched the stars come out.
May you like
One more person left to take his deal.
Then it would all be over.
