Chapter 3 - Red and Blue Lights
Erin didn't back down. Entitlement had been baked into her bones since childhood, nurtured by parents who treated her reckless whims as visionary brilliance.
"You think a piece of paper scares me?" Erin hissed, stepping into my personal space, her eyes wild. "I live here. My business is registered here. Under Seattle tenant laws, you can't touch us! It takes months, Claire. Years, even! And by the time you drag us through court, PulsePoint will have secured Series A funding, and I’ll buy this dump out from under you just to knock it down!"
"You really shouldn't have hit me, Erin," I said softly.
"I should have hit you harder!" she shouted, leaning in until I could smell the expensive wine on her breath. "You deserve every slap you get, you arrogant, selfish bitch!"
I didn't answer her. Instead, I reached into my coat pocket, unlocked my phone, and tapped the screen.
"What are you doing?" Mom asked, her tears vanishing instantly, replaced by sharp suspicion.
"Seattle Police Department non-emergency dispatch connected me to patrol five minutes ago," I said, turning the screen toward them. The call timer read 04:32. "The line has been open since Erin began screaming. The physical assault was captured via audio, and the squad car that was already patrolling the Queen Anne district should be pulling into the driveway right about—"
Outside, tires crunched over wet gravel. A flash of blue and red light reflected against the rain-streaked living room window.
Silence fell over the dining room—a heavy, suffocating silence.
Erin’s mouth dropped open. "You... you called the cops?"
"You assaulted the property owner inside her own residence," I said. "Did you honestly believe you could hit me, draw blood, and demand I surrender my deed without consequences?"
"Claire, hang up!" Dad yelled, lunging toward my phone. "Are you out of your mind? You're calling the police on your sister? Cancel it! Tell them it was an accident!"
"It wasn't an accident," I said, stepping backward toward the hallway, away from his reaching hand. "It was domestic assault."
Heavy footsteps mounted the wooden steps of the front porch. A firm, authoritative knock rattled the oak door.
"Seattle Police. Open up."
Mom scrambled from her chair, her face pale as ash. "Claire, please! Think of Erin’s reputation! If she gets an arrest record, her investors will pull out! She’s trying to build a career!"
"She should have thought about her career before she threw her right hand," I said, walking to the door.
I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open. Two uniformed officers stood under the porch light, rain dripping from their brimmed hats. The lead officer, a tall woman with sharp, observant gray eyes and a nametag that read *OFFICER CHEN*, looked from me to the chaos in the dining room behind me.
Her eyes immediately locked onto my face.
"Are you Claire Bennett?" Officer Chen asked.
"I am," I said.
"You're bleeding from your lip, ma'am. Did someone inside strike you?"
Before I could answer, Dad pushed his way into the foyer, his posture radiating aggressive indignation. "Officers, this is a private family dispute! My daughters had a minor disagreement over dinner. There is no need for police intervention. We have everything under control."
Officer Chen didn't even blink. "Sir, step back. I didn't ask you. Miss Bennett, did someone inside this residence assault you?"
I looked past the officer into the dark, rainy night, and then back at my family.
"Yes," I said clearly. "My sister, Erin Bennett. She struck me in the face, drew blood, and threatened me."
Behind my father, Erin let out a choked shriek. "She's lying! She provoked me! She came into *my* house and attacked me verbally!"
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Officer Chen stepped past my father into the entryway, her hand resting casually near her utility belt. "Ma'am, step out of the dining room with your hands visible. Right now."
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