Then another call came from Graham.

“I’m outside,” he said. “There are cars blocking driveways, a catering van on your lawn, and what looks like a paid bartender serving alcohol. Did you authorize any of this?”

“No.”

“Do you want them removed?”

I looked at the live feed, where Madison was laughing with her boss beside the bar, one hand resting proudly on the railing Daniel had sanded until his palms blistered.

“Yes,” I said. “All of them.”

Graham’s voice softened—he had known Daniel and understood what that house meant. “Then stay on the line.”

Within minutes, the first patrol car arrived, then a second, their lights flashing blue and red across my windows, making the entire party seem to freeze mid-breath.

Madison’s smile disappeared.

Through the camera, I watched Graham walk up the front path with two uniformed officers behind him. He didn’t raise his voice, and somehow that made it worse for everyone inside—because calm authority has a way of making arrogance look childish.

Madison rushed to the door. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

Graham looked past her into the crowded living room. “Are you Ava Whitmore?”

“No, I’m her sister.”

“Did Ava Whitmore give you permission to host this event?”

Madison hesitated—and that hesitation was the first real answer she had given all night.

“She knew about it,” Madison said.

I unmuted myself on the call. “No, I didn’t.”

Graham held up his phone so my voice echoed through the entryway.

For one perfect second, Madison looked like the ground had shifted beneath her feet.

“Ava,” she said, suddenly sweet, “don’t do this.”

“You already did it,” I replied.

The officers began clearing the house. Guests whispered, gathered their things, and looked at Madison with the quiet frustration of people realizing they had been invited into someone else’s home without permission. The bartender packed up quickly. The caterers asked who would cover cancellation and cleanup costs. Madison’s boss stood near the door, his expression shifting from confusion to professional concern.

Then one of the officers stepped into the living room and called out, “Who authorized the removal of the hallway camera?”

My breath caught.

On the feed, Madison went pale.

Because in that moment, I realized this hadn’t been impulsive.

This had been planned.