6. The New Command
   The footage on the second phone was a chronicle of a year’s worth of systemic erasure.

It wasn’t just the bruises. It was the “rehearsals”—hours of Lydia forcing Chloe to repeat lines, to smile on command, to cry for the camera when a “relatable” post was needed. It was a digital map of psychological warfare. Seeing it made me realize that I hadn’t just saved Chloe from a single night of rage; I had pulled her out of a cult of one.