“You forced a woman out of a house 24 hours after major surgery,” he said slowly. “With visible bleeding. With a newborn in her arms.”
My mother scoffed. “Oh, please, don’t exaggerate—”
Mateo held up his phone.
“I already called an ambulance,” he said. “And I’ve sent photos to my lawyer.”
Silence.
“What photos?” my sister asked, her confidence slipping for the first time.
Mateo stepped closer, his voice colder now.
“The ones showing her condition,” he replied. “The blood. The way she could barely stand. The fact that you all watched and did nothing.”
My father’s expression changed.
“This is a family matter,” he said quickly.
“No,” Mateo answered. “This is abuse.”
In the distance, sirens began to echo.
