The second detective stepped behind Eleanor and reached for his belt.

The sound of metal handcuffs clicking open echoed in the quiet room.

“Hands behind your back, please,” the detective said.

Eleanor pulled her arms away, her chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor.

“Do not touch me,” she hissed.

“Do not make this more difficult, Mother,” Nathan said.

His voice was calm, but I could feel the tension in his shoulder next to mine.

Eleanor glared at Nathan, then turned her cold eyes to me.

“You did this,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “You ruined my family.”

I looked back at her, remembering the smoke, the ash, and the years of hiding.

“I protected my family, Eleanor,” I said softly. “Just like you claimed to protect yours.”

The detective took her wrists and fastened the handcuffs behind her back.

The metallic clicks sounded heavy and permanent.

She did not struggle further, but her shoulders slumped.

The local police officer took her by the elbow and guided her toward the door.

She walked with her head held high, but her steps were slow and unsteady.