Cameras flashed and reporters shoved microphones forward as police officers marched into Dylan's dormitory building. I watched the scene unfold on the live news feed playing on Nathaniel's tablet, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"They actually did it," I whispered, barely able to believe my own eyes.
Nathaniel's arm wrapped around my shoulders, solid and reassuring. "Detective Pierce is thorough. She wouldn't move without enough evidence."
The footage showed police knocking on Dylan's door. When it opened, Ivy Ollie was there, her face contorted with rage as she slapped Dylan across the face. The reporters gasped collectively.
"You ungrateful little worm!" Ivy screamed, completely unaware of the cameras. "Writing that apology letter to Juliana? After everything we've done for you?"
Dylan cowered, holding his reddened cheek. "Aunt Ivy, please—"
"Mrs. Ollie," the lead officer interrupted, "step away from him."
