{"id":29210,"date":"2026-07-07T00:07:33","date_gmt":"2026-07-06T17:07:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/?p=29210"},"modified":"2026-07-07T00:07:33","modified_gmt":"2026-07-06T17:07:33","slug":"my-doorbell-camera-alerted-me-mid-flight-what-i-saw-at-home-changed-everything-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/?p=29210","title":{"rendered":"A notification from my doorbell camera turned my flight into the longest trip of my life. The footage revealed a shocking family secret."},"content":{"rendered":"

At thirty thousand feet, somewhere between Salt Lake City and Virginia Beach, the world was supposed to feel controlled.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

I was Colonel Aaron Hayes, reviewing a classified deployment file on an encrypted military tablet while the steady hum of the aircraft engines filled the cabin.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Then my personal phone vibrated hard against the tray table.<\/p>\n

The notification made no sense.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

ASHFORD HOME SECURITY: Emergency motion detected. Zone: Driveway.<\/p>\n

I almost dismissed it. It was a Tuesday evening. Maybe a stray dog. Maybe a delivery at our home in Ashford, Virginia.<\/p>\n

Then a second alert flashed across the screen.<\/p>\n

Audio detected: High-decibel distress.<\/p>\n

A cold blade of panic cut straight through my chest. I opened the live doorbell camera.<\/p>\n

And my entire world shrank to the screen in my hand.<\/p>\n

My eight-year-old daughter, Emma, was scrambling backward across the driveway in her fleece unicorn pajamas. Her bare feet scraped against the cold concrete. Her tiny hands clawed at a pair of adult hands tangled violently in her long brown hair.<\/p>\n

The hands belonged to Patricia Grant\u2014my mother-in-law.<\/p>\n

She was dragging my daughter across the pavement, her face red with rage, her mouth twisted into something I had never imagined seeing on a human face.<\/p>\n

\u201cScream for your daddy!\u201d Patricia hissed, leaning toward the camera. \u201cLet\u2019s see if he comes to save you this time!\u201d<\/p>\n

Emma screamed.<\/p>\n

It tore through the silence of the aircraft cabin.<\/p>\n

But Patricia was not alone.<\/p>\n

A few feet behind her stood my wife, Natalie.<\/p>\n

Natalie was not stopping it.<\/p>\n

She was holding up her phone.<\/p>\n

Recording.<\/p>\n

Smiling.<\/p>\n

Around them stood Natalie\u2019s three sisters\u2014Brianna, Paige, and Courtney. Brianna held a red plastic fuel can. Paige had a large bottle of industrial dish soap. Courtney was laughing so hard she had to hold onto Natalie\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n

Then Brianna tipped the red can.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Clear liquid splashed across Emma\u2019s pajama pants and spread darkly over the concrete beneath her feet.<\/p>\n

The commander in me disappeared.<\/p>\n

Only a father remained.<\/p>\n

\u201cCaptain,\u201d I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.<\/p>\n

The pilot turned from the cockpit doorway. \u201cSir?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDivert this aircraft. Now. Nearest military airfield.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cColonel Hayes, with respect, we are on a strict flight path to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

I lifted my tablet so he could see the active command authorization glowing green.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is an emergency domestic threat involving a minor. You will file it as a command necessity, and you will put this aircraft on the ground in the next twenty minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at my face once.<\/p>\n

Then he reached for the radio.<\/p>\n

I made one call.<\/p>\n

Not to 911 first.<\/p>\n

I called Jordan Blake, my former special operations chief\u2014the man who had pulled me from a burning armored vehicle outside Kandahar years earlier.<\/p>\n

\u201cBlake,\u201d he answered.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy daughter is being assaulted at my residence,\u201d I said, forcing my voice into military calm. \u201cFour adults. My wife is involved. I\u2019m airborne and diverting. I need eyes on the property, lawful chain of custody, local police coordination, and everything by the book.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice changed instantly.<\/p>\n

\u201cSend me everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sent him the live footage, address, gate code, house layout, and custody documents.<\/p>\n

Then I called Ashford Police. Then my attorney, Diane Mercer. Then child protective services.<\/p>\n

Finally, I called my neighbor, Mrs. Rivera.<\/p>\n

She answered crying.<\/p>\n

\u201cAaron,\u201d she sobbed. \u201cThey just dragged Emma inside the house.\u201d<\/p>\n

Three hours and forty-one minutes later, the jet landed on the wet tarmac at Langley Air Force Base.<\/p>\n

Two black SUVs waited with blue lights flashing on the dashboards. Jordan Blake stood beside the first one, rain blowing against his tactical jacket, a tablet in his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re still inside,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd Aaron\u2026 they posted part of it online.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t run.<\/p>\n

I walked toward the SUV with the calm of a man who had realized war had followed him home.<\/p>\n

The drive to Ashford should have taken forty-five minutes. It took nineteen, with state police clearing intersections ahead of us.<\/p>\n

In the back seat, I watched the clips Jordan had saved from Natalie\u2019s social media before she restricted the account.<\/p>\n

In one video, Paige leaned into the camera and sneered, \u201cThis is what happens when spoiled little princesses think their deployed daddy owns the world.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jordan quietly lowered the volume.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe tried to call you,\u201d he said. \u201cShe had that old field phone you gave her. Natalie took it and smashed it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared out at the rain.<\/p>\n

When we turned onto Hawthorne Lane, the neighborhood looked sickeningly normal. Trimmed lawns. Warm porch lights. Flags moving softly in the wind.<\/p>\n

Nothing about the street announced that a child had been terrorized there.<\/p>\n

But my house was surrounded.<\/p>\n

Police cruisers blocked the driveway. Crime-scene tape stretched across the front walk. Officers stood near the door. Mrs. Rivera was on the lawn wrapped in a plaid blanket, giving a statement, fury shining through her tears.<\/p>\n

I got out before the SUV fully stopped.<\/p>\n

Lieutenant Brooks met me on the walkway.<\/p>\n

\u201cColonel Hayes, I need you to remain calm and let us handle the scene.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere is my daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s inside. Alive. Conscious. Paramedics are with her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alive.<\/p>\n

The word moved through my chest like shrapnel being pulled free.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why are those people still inside my house?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour wife refused entry at first. She claimed it was a private family discipline matter. Your mother-in-law said the child injured herself playing. But your security footage, the neighbor\u2019s statement, and the online video gave us probable cause. We breached the door six minutes ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then I heard it.<\/p>\n

Small. Broken.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaddy?\u201d<\/p>\n

I moved past him before anyone could stop me.<\/p>\n

The house smelled of vinegar, lavender soap, and fear. Family photos still lined the hallway\u2014Natalie smiling in a white dress, Emma on my shoulders at the beach, Patricia beside a birthday cake. Every picture looked like a lie.<\/p>\n

Emma sat shaking on the leather couch, wrapped in a foil emergency blanket. Her hair was damp and tangled. Her face was blotched from crying. A female paramedic knelt before her, checking the raw red marks on her wrists.<\/p>\n

When Emma saw me in the doorway, her body folded.<\/p>\n

I dropped to my knees as she threw herself into my chest.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cI screamed,\u201d she sobbed into my jacket. \u201cDaddy, I screamed so loud.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI heard you,\u201d I whispered, holding her as if she were made of glass. \u201cI heard you, and I came.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Natalie stood near the fireplace with her arms crossed, pale but still defiant. Patricia sat cuffed in a dining chair. Brianna, Paige, and Courtney were lined against the wall while officers searched their designer bags.<\/p>\n

Natalie\u2019s voice shook with outrage, not remorse.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cThis is insane, Aaron. You used military connections against your own family?\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t look at her.<\/p>\n

Emma trembled against me and whispered,<\/p>\n

\u201cMommy laughed at me.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room went silent.<\/p>\n

I kissed the top of her head, stood with her in my arms, and looked at Lieutenant Brooks.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want every recording device preserved. Every phone. Every tablet. Every post. Every message. There will be no quiet family settlement. No private apology. No civilized cover-up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Natalie scoffed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou really think you can destroy us over a practical joke?\u201d<\/p>\n

I finally looked at the woman I had married.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Natalie,\u201d I said softly. \u201cI don\u2019t have to destroy you. You did that yourself, on camera.\u201d<\/p>\n

The first decision I made was to leave my own house.<\/p>\n

Not because Natalie screamed at me from the doorway.<\/p>\n

Not because Patricia cursed as officers put her into a patrol car.<\/p>\n

Not because Brianna sobbed, Paige demanded a lawyer, or Courtney shouted that I was overreacting.<\/p>\n

I left because Emma asked me to.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaddy,\u201d she whispered into my neck, \u201ccan we go somewhere that doesn\u2019t smell like them?\u201d<\/p>\n

I carried her across the lawn to Mrs. Rivera\u2019s house.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Rivera was waiting with the door open, hot chocolate on the table, a wool blanket on the sofa, and an orange stuffed cat borrowed from her granddaughter sitting on the cushion like a tiny guard.<\/p>\n

Emma curled against me and refused to let go of my sleeve.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Through the curtains, we watched police lights flash across my house.<\/p>\n

Detectives carried out evidence bags. Phones and laptops were tagged. The red can was photographed. Yellow chalk marked the driveway where the liquid had spread. Officers knocked on doors, taking statements from neighbors who admitted they had heard screaming but thought it might be \u201cfamily business.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Rivera had not hesitated.<\/p>\n

She called 911 twice. She recorded the abuse from her upstairs window. She had gone to the fence and shouted for them to stop until Patricia threatened her too.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat baby was begging for her father,\u201d Mrs. Rivera told Detective Rachel Stone. \u201cAnd her own mother stood there filming like it was entertainment.\u201d<\/p>\n

Detective Stone wrote down every word.<\/p>\n

When she questioned me, I answered with cold precision. Where was I? Airborne to Virginia Beach. Why on secured transport? Classified deployment. Who had access to the house? Natalie and her mother. History of domestic conflict?<\/p>\n

I paused.<\/p>\n

There had been no violence like this before.<\/p>\n

But there had been rot.<\/p>\n

Natalie resented my command responsibilities. She mocked my deployments, calling them \u201cplaying hero.\u201d Patricia complained that Emma was too attached to me and too much like her father. Natalie\u2019s sisters teased Emma for being quiet, for liking science kits more than dance, for wanting me to teach her chess.<\/p>\n

I had noticed the comments. I had intervened. Last Thanksgiving, I banned Patricia from unsupervised visits after catching her slapping Emma\u2019s hand hard enough to leave a red mark over spilled cranberry sauce.<\/p>\n

Natalie accused me of being controlling.<\/p>\n

I thought the marriage was cracking only between adults.<\/p>\n

I had not seen the pieces hitting my child.<\/p>\n

At 11:27 p.m., a child services supervisor named Angela Price arrived with emergency custody paperwork. I read every line before signing.<\/p>\n

\u201cMrs. Hayes will have no contact with Emma until a family court judge reviews the matter,\u201d Angela said. \u201cGiven the footage and the police report, we\u2019ll request an emergency protective order in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emma stirred against me.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo Mommy?\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n

I looked at her bruised wrists.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot unless a judge tells me it\u2019s safe. And not unless you are completely protected.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe said nobody would believe me,\u201d Emma whispered. \u201cShe said I was a liar.\u201d<\/p>\n

Detective Stone\u2019s expression hardened.<\/p>\n

I kept my voice steady.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey believed the video. Mrs. Rivera believed you. The police believed you. And I believe you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emma\u2019s eyes filled again, but this time the panic didn\u2019t return. She pressed her forehead into my chest and finally breathed.<\/p>\n

By midnight, Natalie had been taken to the station. Her sisters followed in separate cruisers. Patricia went last, screaming until the patrol car door shut.<\/p>\n

The first charges sounded too small for what I had seen: child endangerment, assault, unlawful restraint, harassment. Paige was also charged with evidence tampering after trying to delete videos during the police breach.<\/p>\n

Later, cyber investigators recovered more.<\/p>\n

The clear liquid in the red can was not gasoline. It was vinegar and water, mixed to smell terrifying and make Emma believe she was about to be set on fire.<\/p>\n

Legally, that meant it was not attempted murder.<\/p>\n

To an eight-year-old\u2019s nightmares, it made no difference.<\/p>\n

In the days that followed, Natalie tried to rewrite the story.<\/p>\n

First, she called it a \u201cmisunderstood tough-love family intervention.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then she claimed I had edited the footage using military technology.<\/p>\n

Then she said she had been terrified of her mother and forced to record.<\/p>\n

That lie lasted forty-eight hours.<\/p>\n

Detective Stone recovered the deleted family group chat from Natalie\u2019s cloud account.<\/p>\n

The messages had started two weeks earlier.<\/p>\n

Patricia: The girl needs to learn that he cannot always save her from the women in this family.<\/p>\n

Brianna: Make it dramatic. He checks those cameras.<\/p>\n

Paige: Natalie should record it. Proof she finally stopped being soft on the brat.<\/p>\n

Natalie: I\u2019m tired of always coming second to a child.<\/p>\n

That last message became the center of the case.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t read it twice.<\/p>\n

Three days later, my attorney, Diane Mercer, read it aloud in family court.<\/p>\n

Natalie sat across from me in a navy dress, hair pinned back, eyes red for the judge. Patricia did not appear. Her criminal attorney had warned her not to. Her sisters were named in the protective order but did not show their faces.<\/p>\n

Judge Caroline Reed listened in silence.<\/p>\n

Natalie\u2019s attorney tried to describe her as an overwhelmed military spouse. He called Patricia an old-fashioned disciplinarian. He called the video \u201ca disciplinary moment that escalated.\u201d<\/p>\n

The judge lowered her glasses.<\/p>\n

\u201cDragging a terrified eight-year-old child by the hair across concrete while adults film and mock her will never be discipline in my courtroom.\u201d<\/p>\n

Natalie buried her face in her hands.<\/p>\n

The judge reviewed the full footage in chambers.<\/p>\n

When she returned, her face was stone.<\/p>\n

Temporary sole physical and legal custody went to me. Natalie was barred from all contact with Emma. Patricia and the sisters were banned from coming within five hundred yards of us, Emma\u2019s school, or the house. Emma was assigned a forensic child psychologist. Natalie had to surrender her keys and remove her belongings under police supervision.<\/p>\n

When the gavel fell, Natalie turned toward me.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cAaron! You\u2019re really going to take my daughter away from me?\u201d<\/p>\n

I gathered the court orders and looked at her.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cNo, Natalie. I\u2019m keeping my daughter away from you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The court victory was only the beginning.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

The clip of Natalie smiling behind the camera spread across the internet. I didn\u2019t release it. Mrs. Rivera didn\u2019t release it. The police didn\u2019t either.<\/p>\n

Natalie and her sisters had posted enough of it themselves, thinking their private circle would find it funny.<\/p>\n

Instead, the internet found them.<\/p>\n

Within a week, their lives collapsed. Natalie lost her job at a private school consulting firm. Brianna\u2019s fitness studio cut ties with her. Paige\u2019s fianc\u00e9 returned her ring through his brother and moved away. Courtney deleted her social media, but screenshots followed her everywhere.<\/p>\n

Even Patricia\u2019s church removed her from the women\u2019s committee.<\/p>\n

The family that once bragged about being \u201cstrong women\u201d became radioactive.<\/p>\n

But watching their lives burn did not heal Emma.<\/p>\n

Healing was smaller.<\/p>\n

Harder.<\/p>\n

Healing was Emma needing the hallway light on to sleep. It was me learning to scuff my boots before entering a room so I wouldn\u2019t startle her. It was the way she gripped my hand every time I put on my uniform and asked, \u201cAre you leaving again?\u201d<\/p>\n

The next Monday, I walked into my commanding general\u2019s office.<\/p>\n

I requested emergency leave.<\/p>\n

Then a permanent stateside administrative assignment.<\/p>\n

Then I submitted my resignation from the command track.<\/p>\n

My general stared at the paperwork.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve given this country twenty years, Aaron. You\u2019re walking away from your legacy.\u201d<\/p>\n

I thought of Emma\u2019s school photo\u2014the one where she was missing two front teeth and saluting badly at the camera.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, sir,\u201d I said. \u201cNow I\u2019m giving my daughter the rest.\u201d<\/p>\n

After Natalie moved out under police supervision, I changed the house.<\/p>\n

Not just the locks.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

The feeling of it.<\/p>\n

I replaced the security system because Emma needed to see who was approaching. I painted her room warm yellow instead of the lavender Natalie had chosen. I removed every photograph of Natalie, Patricia, and the sisters.<\/p>\n

One rainy afternoon, Emma found a silver-framed wedding photo I had missed.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaddy,\u201d she asked softly, \u201cwhat do we do with this one?\u201d<\/p>\n

I knelt beside her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want to do with it?\u201d<\/p>\n

She stared at it for a long time.<\/p>\n

\u201cPut it away. Not in the trash. Just\u2026 away in a box. In the dark.\u201d<\/p>\n

So I did.<\/p>\n

The criminal case took eight months.<\/p>\n

Natalie\u2019s attorney argued she never physically touched Emma. He claimed recording was morally wrong but legally different. He said she froze.<\/p>\n

The prosecutor simply played the video at full volume.<\/p>\n

Then she projected the group chat message:<\/p>\n

I\u2019m tired of always coming second to a child.<\/p>\n

Finally, Emma\u2019s psychologist explained the damage caused by a mother\u2019s laughter during her child\u2019s terror, so Emma did not have to testify.<\/p>\n

Natalie accepted a plea deal for felony child endangerment.<\/p>\n

Patricia refused.<\/p>\n

She wanted the stage.<\/p>\n

On the stand, she claimed I had brainwashed Emma. She said children needed fear to respect adults. She said my military career made me the real danger. She insisted the video looked bad only because modern society hated \u201ctraditional grandmothers who discipline spoiled brats.\u201d<\/p>\n

The jury took ninety-four minutes.<\/p>\n

Guilty on all counts.<\/p>\n

At sentencing, I stood at the podium in a dark suit, not as a colonel, but as a father.<\/p>\n

Emma was not in court. She was safe in Mrs. Rivera\u2019s kitchen, making chocolate chip cookies.<\/p>\n

I looked at Patricia, then Natalie, then the sisters.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy daughter was eight years old,\u201d I began. \u201cShe trusted the adults in her family to know the difference between correction and cruelty. You took that trust and weaponized it. You wanted her to believe I was too far away to save her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Natalie covered her face.<\/p>\n

Patricia stared at me with hatred.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut your lesson failed,\u201d I continued. \u201cMy daughter learned that when she cries for help in the dark, the people who truly love her will move heaven, law, and distance to reach her.\u201d<\/p>\n

The judge imposed harsh sentences and strict probation terms. Patricia received the longest prison sentence. Natalie received jail time, counseling, supervised release conditions, and a permanent no-contact order. Her sisters received suspended sentences, community service, probation, and protective restrictions.<\/p>\n

No one left untouched.<\/p>\n

A year later, Emma turned ten.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t want a huge party. She asked for chocolate chip pancakes for dinner, a crooked homemade cake, and a guest list: Mrs. Rivera, Jordan Blake, Detective Rachel Stone, and Diane Mercer.<\/p>\n

It looked like a strange family.<\/p>\n

To Emma, it was perfect.<\/p>\n

For her gift, I bought her a professional telescope.<\/p>\n

After cake, she carried the tripod to the back patio and aimed it at the moon.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaddy,\u201d she asked softly, \u201cdo you think people can ever be good again after they were really, really bad?\u201d<\/p>\n

I stood beside her in the dark.<\/p>\n

\u201cSome people can,\u201d I said carefully. \u201cBut being sorry doesn\u2019t automatically give them a key back into your life. Forgiveness is for you, so you don\u2019t carry the anger. Boundaries are for you, so you don\u2019t get hurt again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

For a while, we stood quietly under the summer sky.<\/p>\n

Then Emma looked up at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen I screamed that night,\u201d she whispered, \u201cI really thought you wouldn\u2019t hear me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I crouched so we were eye to eye.<\/p>\n

\u201cI won\u2019t always be on the same street, Emma. I may not always be close enough to arrive in minutes. But you will never be alone with fear again. Look inside. Mrs. Rivera. Jordan. Detective Stone. Diane. Your teachers. Me. We built a whole circle around you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded slowly.<\/p>\n

Then she wrapped her arms around my neck.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m really glad you came, Daddy.\u201d<\/p>\n

I closed my eyes and held her.<\/p>\n

I had not arrived in time to stop the first scream.<\/p>\n

I would carry that guilt forever.<\/p>\n

But I had arrived with enough force to make sure she would never scream into emptiness again.<\/p>\n

And inside the house, on a wooden shelf between new family photos and Emma\u2019s science awards, sat the small orange stuffed cat Mrs. Rivera had lent her on the darkest night of her life.<\/p>\n

Emma never offered to give it back.<\/p>\n

And no one ever asked her to.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

At thirty thousand feet, somewhere between Salt Lake City and Virginia Beach, the world was supposed to feel controlled. I was Colonel Aaron Hayes, reviewing a classified deployment file on … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":26564,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[24,22,20],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-29210","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29210","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=29210"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29210\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":29212,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29210\/revisions\/29212"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/26564"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=29210"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=29210"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=29210"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}