I looked up at my parents, my voice shattering. "Dad… Mom? What… what is happening?"
My father didn't even glance at the IDs. He simply stepped forward, shielding Luna from me, his eyes filled with a cold, hard disgust.
"Don't call us that," he said, his voice low. "I don't know you, ma'am. You are just the nanny this household hired. This harassment has gone far beyond the line—it's become absurd."
The silence in the living room was absolute. My parents and Daniel stood in front of Luna, their bodies angled inward, forming an unspoken barrier. I stood on the other side. Alone.
The officer's eyes found me first. "Identification."
I handed it over. He took my card, glanced down—and went still. It wasn't a pause; it was recognition.
"You're the caller," he said. "Yes." "You provided this name and number." He recited the digits I had known since I was eighteen.
The second officer spoke, his voice flat and procedural. "Ma'am, you used your employer's legal identity to file a false report. This is more than a violation; it is a criminal offense."
"No," my voice trembled. "That number is mine. That's me. I am Evelyn Hart."
The first officer didn't argue. He reached out, took a card from Luna's hand, and set it beside mine on the coffee table. "Look for yourself."
I looked down.
The first card had my name, Evelyn Hart, and my familiar ID number. But the photo was Luna's.
The second card had my photo. My thumbprint. But the name printed above my face was Luna, followed by a string of cold, unfamiliar digits I didn't recognize.
The room tilted.
My head spun, and my vision blurred with countless distorted, overlapping lines, shaking violently, shredding reality into pieces. The dispatcher's hesitation, the wariness at the door, the way the officers looked at me like a criminal…
I had nothing left to say. I was not me.