Chapter 10: What The Bank App Could Not Protect
The phone lay on the floor between Evan’s boot and my outstretched hand, its screen dimming and brightening with the open call. I could still hear my father’s voice through the small speaker, the words he had already said carrying across the kitchen like something solid: “You lay a hand on my girl again, you won't walk out.”
Evan glanced at the phone, then at me. His face had gone still in the way I had learned to fear. The anger did not disappear. It folded inward, becoming calculation.
Noah stood behind the kitchen table with the stuffed dinosaur pressed against his chest. He watched Evan’s hands. I watched his feet. The front door remained shut. My father was close enough to have changed the air in the house, but not close enough to make me safe.
My ribs caught when I shifted. I pressed one palm against my side and used the other to drag the phone toward me. The screen opened before my finger touched it. The bank app was still loaded beneath the call, showing the account login page and a row of numbers partly hidden by the active-call banner.
I had opened it earlier, before Evan came back. I had wanted to see what I could reach if I had to leave quickly. The app asked for a password I knew, but the text field was blocked by the call controls and by my shaking hand. I tried to swipe the call down. My finger slipped.
Evan moved.
Noah moved faster. He stepped between Evan and the phone, small shoulders squared, dinosaur tucked under one arm. He did not speak. He only held out the other hand, as if he could stop a door from closing.
Evan stopped because my father was listening. That was the only reason.
I pulled the phone close to my stomach, then regretted the pressure immediately. Pain flashed through my side and stole the breath I had been trying to save. The phone slid against the tile. The call remained connected, but the screen went dark again.
Evan pointed toward it. Then he pointed toward the stairs and the front door, making the meaning plain without saying anything.
The keys were still on the counter, just beyond him. I had seen them there since the first moment I opened my eyes on the floor. They were the only practical way out if he let me reach them, and he had placed himself between me and every route that mattered.
I looked down at the phone. The bank app waited behind the call. I could not verify the balance. I could not transfer money, change a password, or even tell whether the account was accessible from anywhere but this kitchen. The uncertainty pressed harder than the locked screen. If I left without knowing what I had, I might be leaving behind the only money I could reach. If I stayed to solve it, I was giving Evan time.
Noah crouched and picked up the phone before Evan could. He turned it so the screen faced his chest, protecting the call with both hands. The stuffed dinosaur dropped beside his knee.
Evan reached toward him.
I forced myself upright against the cabinet. The movement made my vision narrow, but I got one hand between them. I touched the phone, not taking it, only pinning it against Noah’s fingers. The active call timer glowed for a second before the display darkened.
My father was still there. The bank app could wait. The account could remain unknown. I needed the phone to remain a witness, and I needed Noah behind me, not within Evan’s reach.
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Evan shifted his weight toward the hallway. Somewhere beyond the walls, an engine slowed, then passed. The sound faded. The front door stayed closed, and the phone slipped from Noah’s hands into mine.
I held it against my chest as Evan bent toward us.
