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Apr 11, 2026
Every night at exactly 3:00 a.m., the shower started running in my son’s luxury condo, and every night I told myself it had to be stress, insomnia, anything except the truth. Then one night I followed the sound, looked through the half-open bathroom door, and saw Nicholas with one fist buried in Hazel’s hair, forcing her under freezing water while she stood there fully dressed, shaking so hard her teeth clicked. He leaned into her ear and whispered, “Do you still think you can talk back to me?” Then he hit her.