PART 2
PART 2
The dispatcher answered on the second ring.
“Emergency services. What is your situation?”
“My husband assaulted me,” I said calmly. “And I need officers at my residence immediately.”
Daniel rolled his eyes and reached for his wine glass.
“Tell them to bring a lawyer too,” he mocked.
Vivian laughed.
The dispatcher asked for the address.
I gave it.
Then I added one more sentence.
“I am the sole legal owner of the property.”
That finally got Daniel's attention.
His smile faded slightly.
“What are you talking about?”
I ended the call and placed the phone on the table.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Vivian scoffed.
“Owner? Don't be ridiculous. Daniel has lived here for years.”
“Living somewhere doesn't make you the owner,” I replied.
Daniel stood up abruptly.
“Stop playing games.”
“I'm not.”
He stared at me, trying to decide whether I was bluffing.
For three years, he had never bothered to ask how the apartment was purchased.
Never asked whose name appeared on the title.
Never asked who paid the property taxes.
Why would he?
People rarely question the things they think belong to them.
A loud knock interrupted the silence.
Fifteen minutes had passed.
The police had arrived.
Daniel immediately relaxed.
He thought they were there for me.
He opened the door with a confident smile.
“Officers, thank God you're here.”
Two uniformed officers stepped inside.
A third officer carried a tablet.
“Who placed the emergency call?” one asked.
“I did,” I said.
The officer turned toward me.
“Ma'am, are you injured?”
Daniel quickly jumped in.
“She overreacted. It was a family disagreement.”
The officer looked directly at my reddened cheek.
“A disagreement?”
The room became very quiet.
“Sir,” the officer said, “did you strike your wife?”
May you like
Daniel hesitated.
That hesitation was all the answer they needed.
