I showed up to Christmas dinner on a cast, still limping from when my daughter-in-law had shoved me days earlier. My son just laughed and said, “She taught you a lesson—you had it coming.” Then the doorbell rang. I smiled, opened it, and said, “Come in, officer.”

The Push

Three weeks before Christmas, I came home from the supermarket with bags in both hands. As I climbed the steps to my front door—steps I’d climbed for twenty years—I felt two hands shove me hard between the shoulder blades.

I flew sideways, crashed onto the concrete, and felt something in my foot snap.

When I looked up, Melanie stood at the top of the stairs, not horrified but satisfied. Our eyes locked. She knew exactly what she’d done.

Jeffrey came out. He looked at me on the ground, then at her. And he laughed.

“It’s to teach you a lesson,” he said. “One you deserve.”

They went back inside, leaving me on the steps in agony.

It was my neighbors who found me and rushed me to the hospital. On the way, through the pain, one thought kept me upright: I had installed a hidden camera in the porch light weeks earlier, facing those very steps.

The Footage and the Plan

From my hospital bed, I called Mitch. He went to the house, retrieved the footage, and texted me two words: “We got them.”

The video showed everything—Melanie scanning for witnesses, positioning herself behind me, the deliberate push, my fall, Jeffrey laughing and saying I deserved it.

Doctors told me my foot was fractured in two places. I needed surgery and a cast for six weeks.

Jeffrey and Melanie arrived at the hospital pretending concern. Melanie brought flowers, Jeffrey squeezed my hand, both insisting it was a terrible “accident.” I let them talk. I let them think I was helpless.

Two days later, on December 24th, they took me home. Melanie drove too fast, letting the car jolt my injured leg. She described the wonderful Christmas lunch she was planning, how she’d invited friends and a “lawyer friend” named Julian.