The crack of wood as the metal bar hit the ramp. Then Caleb’s scream.
Mrs. Harlow’s own voice, sharp, angry, clear as day: “This is an eyesore!”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“No…”
The man lowered the phone.
“That footage was sent directly to the Founder of the organization last night.”
I turned to Renee. She hadn’t moved.
Mrs. Harlow shook her head quickly. “That’s not… You don’t understand. I was just trying to… the neighborhood has standards, and I thought—”
“Thought what?”
She opened her mouth, but had nothing more to add.
“You destroyed a wheelchair ramp built for a child.”
Another man stepped forward, older.
“We don’t want a CEO who destroys a child’s freedom to save her ‘view.’”
The words hung in the air.
Mrs. Harlow started shaking again.
“I didn’t know—” she began, then stopped.
Ethan’s hand found mine. He squeezed it tightly.
