My new wife’s seven-year-old daughter burst into tears every time we were left alone together. Whenever I gently asked her what was wrong, she would only shake her head silently. My wife would just laugh it off and say, “She simply doesn’t like you.”

She was a pattern.

The trial became national news. Clara cried on camera. She claimed I had framed her. She claimed the videos were fake. She claimed the fire was mine.

But the prosecution had the flash drive.

The messages.

The cash.

The insurance policy.

The forged evaluation.

The fire evidence.

And then Harper testified.

She sat with Scout in her lap, her feet not touching the floor. Her voice shook at first, but it did not break. She told the jury about the rabbit. About being told to bite down so no one would hear her cry. About the rehearsed lies. About the night her mother promised the fire would eat the bad secrets.