I wanted to demand an explanation.

I wanted to ask how he could destroy the one possession he knew meant so much to me.

But I promised Claire I wouldn’t contact him.

She explained that we still had a final hearing concerning the remaining financial assets later that week.

The damage might be relevant.

So I followed her instructions.

I walked through every room recording video.

I narrated the date, the time, and the damage I found.

When I reached the mirror, I couldn’t speak.

I simply held the camera above the broken pieces.

For several seconds, the recording captured nothing but my breathing.

My father arrived before I finished documenting everything.

I hadn’t called him.

Claire had.

Dad was sixty-eight, a retired electrician with large, scarred hands and a quiet manner.

He’d spent decades repairing wiring, fuse boxes, and old household systems.

He was the kind of man who rarely raised his voice.