{"id":14151,"date":"2026-09-17T04:13:28","date_gmt":"2026-09-17T04:13:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/?p=14151"},"modified":"2026-09-17T04:13:28","modified_gmt":"2026-09-17T04:13:28","slug":"he-told-doctors-i-fell-down-but-one-dashcam-recording-was-about-to-destroy-my-husband-and-his-family","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/?p=14151","title":{"rendered":"He Told Doctors I Fell Down\u2014But One Dashcam Recording Was About to Destroy My Husband and His Family."},"content":{"rendered":"

Chapter 1: The Bastion and the Spark
\nThe Sterling estate occupied the secluded, twisting terminus of a private lane nestled deep within an affluent American suburb\u2014a sanctuary that prided itself on centuries of amassed wealth and an impenetrable veil of discretion. Viewed from the outside, the property was breathtaking: a sprawling colonial manor smothered in ancient ivy, safely screened from the prying eyes of the mundane world by a dense canopy of towering oaks and a forbidding, intricately forged iron gate. Yet, as the months dragged on, the estate revealed its true nature to me. It bore no resemblance to a warm, welcoming home; it was a meticulously curated fortress, engineered for a singular, chilling purpose\u2014to harbor dark secrets within its reinforced walls rather than to nurture a family.<\/p>\n

When I first married David, I genuinely believed I was stepping into a lineage steeped in elegance, tradition, and profound warmth. I was a young, somewhat naive woman at the time, completely devoid of my own extended family, desperately yearning to belong to a cohesive community. It was not until my pregnancy advanced into its heavy, burdensome final trimester that the horrific truth crystallized in my mind: I had never been welcomed into a family at all. Instead, I had been ensnared within an insular cult, over which my mother-in-law, Martha, reigned with the absolute, unquestioned tyranny of a medieval warlord.<\/p>\n

David\u2019s primary allegiance had never belonged to me, his legally wedded wife, nor did it ever extend to the fragile life developing within my swollen womb. His loyalty was grafted entirely onto the rigid, suffocating commandments of his mother. Martha orchestrated every microscopic detail of domestic life within the manor, her voice carrying a chilling, imperious cadence that tolerated neither dissent nor debate. As my gestational belly expanded, her obsessive, clinical surveillance mutated into something actively toxic. She regarded my physical vessel not as the sacred carrier of her future grandchild, but as communal property belonging exclusively to the Sterling bloodline. She scrutinized my caloric intake down to the single digit, forbade me from stepping foot beyond the iron perimeter without a designated family escort, and systematically replaced my obstetrician\u2019s prenatal prescriptions with a foul-smelling, unverified herbal concoction she brewed herself over the kitchen stove.
\n\"\"
\nThe remaining members of the household\u2014my father-in-law, Robert, and my sister-in-law, Jessica\u2014moved through the grand halls in total silence, acting as docile satellites locked firmly into Martha\u2019s suffocating gravitational pull. They never intervened. They never offered a dissenting word. They inhabited a state of complicit quietude, ruthlessly prioritizing the immaculate public reputation and the ruthless internal hierarchy of the family over my most fundamental human rights.<\/p>\n

The fragile illusion of our civilized, upper-class American lifestyle shattered over an incident so painfully trivial it felt surreal. It was a crisp Tuesday evening, the formal dining room suffused with the golden, amber glow of a magnificent crystal chandelier. The heavy mahogany dining table groaned under the weight of heirloom silver and porcelain. Pushing Martha\u2019s murky green herbal brew away with a deliberate motion of my hand, I quietly inquired whether I might simply take standard prenatal vitamins instead. It was a microscopic rebellion, a pathetic, gasping plea for a sliver of bodily autonomy.<\/p>\n

David did not raise his voice. He did not engage in a marital dispute. He merely reached his long arm across the smooth expanse of the table and clamped his hand around my wrist. It was devoid of any affection; his long, manicured fingers dug into my fragile bones like an industrial vise.<\/p>\n

\u201cMother knows what is best for the lineage, Sarah. Do not make a spectacle of yourself,\u201d he murmured, his tone eerily placid. I stared deep into his eyes, desperately searching for the man who had once sworn to cherish and protect me, but his pupils were entirely devoid of warmth. They were flat, lifeless voids mirroring absolute, unquestioning servitude.<\/p>\n

Seated at the head of the table, Martha offered a thin, controlled smile, her aristocratic features radiating utter mastery as she sliced into a rare steak with surgical precision. Flanking her, Robert and Jessica kept their eyes steadfastly glued to their fine china plates, rhythmically chewing in synchronized silence. It was an unspoken, unanimous consensus: Sarah possessed no voice. Sarah possessed no agency.<\/p>\n

Fiercely, I attempted to yank my wrist from his grasp. The sudden, violent jerk sent my glass crashing across the mahogany, shattering into glittering shards upon the hardwood floor.<\/p>\n

The ensuing silence was suffocating. Martha gracefully lowered her silver knife to her plate. \u201cShe clearly requires a sharp reminder of her proper place, David,\u201d she pronounced, her voice dripping with maternal disappointment. \u201cTake her to the rear.\u201d<\/p>\n

David surged to his feet, tightening his grip upon my arm until the circulation ceased and my fingers turned numbly blue. I began to sob, my voice trembling as I desperately dug my heels into the plush Persian rug, but he dragged me away with a terrifying, effortless strength. As we traversed the cavernous kitchen and burst out through the heavy rear exit, the damp chill of the evening air struck my face like a physical blow. My gravid abdomen convulsed with sudden, blinding terror. My gaze darted instinctively toward the weathered oak bench resting near the jagged perimeter of the Eastern garden\u2014the very spot where they routinely disciplined the estate\u2019s hunting hounds. As David forcefully hauled me deeper into the oppressive shadows of those rotting timbers, a sickening realization pierced my consciousness. The domestic discipline of the Sterling household was violently crossing the threshold from psychological warfare into visceral, unspeakable physical torture. And as the heavy back door slammed shut behind us, plunging me into absolute darkness, I knew with chilling certainty that they fully believed I would never survive to tell the tale.<\/p>\n

Cliffhanger: As the heavy wood of the discipline bench pressed cruelly against my spine and the first brutal strike of the rattan cane sliced through the air, I realized this wasn\u2019t just punishment\u2014it was an execution designed to look like an accident. And they had no idea the dashcam of a passing delivery truck had just recorded every single syllable.
\n
\nChapter 3: Anatomy of a Lie
\nBy 2:00 AM, the sterile hospital room had fully morphed from a medical recovery ward into a clandestine crime scene command center. Detective Hayes, a seasoned, heavyset veteran with weary eyes and a slow, methodical demeanor, had taken total command. He did not waste breath on soothing platitudes; he spoke strictly in the cold vocabulary of procedure.<\/p>\n

\u201cChain of custody for digital evidence,\u201d Hayes murmured, carefully sliding Greg\u2019s microSD card into a transparent polyethylene envelope and sealing it tight with crimson tamper-evident tape. \u201cThis is locked down. Nobody touches it.\u201d<\/p>\n

David and Martha had been forcefully escorted out into the brightly lit corridor, separated entirely from one another by two uniformed patrol officers. Through the reinforced glass window of my room, I could see them pacing restlessly, their cell phones glued to their ears as they desperately marshaled the high-priced legal battalion of the Sterling family. They were frantically attempting to calculate precisely what law enforcement knew versus what the dashcam had actually captured.<\/p>\n

\u201cI need you to hear this, Sarah,\u201d Hayes said softly, pulling a specialized investigative laptop from his worn leather briefcase. \u201cI need you to verify the voices. This isn\u2019t going to be easy.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gripped the cold metal side rail of the hospital bed, grounding myself in its unyielding chill. \u201cPlay it.\u201d<\/p>\n

The audio file was an acoustic nightmare brought back to life with terrifying digital clarity. First came the unmistakable, sickening wet thud of the rattan cane biting into defenseless flesh. I flinched involuntarily, my body remembering the precise topography of that agony. Then, the distinct, low rumble of a heavy diesel engine idling outside. Followed immediately by the heavy slam of the rear patio door.<\/p>\n

Then, the dialogue began.<\/p>\n

\u201cHold her wrists tighter, David.\u201d<\/p>\n

Martha\u2019s voice. Flat. Imperial. Completely devoid of human empathy.<\/p>\n

\u201cAgain. Harder. She needs to understand that she does not own her own body. Do not strike the abdomen\u2014focus entirely on the shoulders and upper back. We cannot afford internal hemorrhaging before the lineage is secured.\u201d<\/p>\n

A hot tear carved a clean path through the dried blood and dust caked upon my cheek. The sheer perversion of it\u2014the clinical, bureaucratic detachment with which she managed my torture as if pruning an overgrown hedge\u2014was staggering.<\/p>\n

Then came David\u2019s voice, thick with exertion and perverted righteousness. \u201cStop thrashing, you ungrateful bitch. Mother is trying to save you from yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

And finally, the audio captured the agonizing sounds of my own crawling retreat across the unpaved stones, my pregnant belly scraping helplessly against the dirt, followed by my violent retching into the boxwood shrubs as the chemical burn of the chili powder ignited my raw flesh.<\/p>\n

But it was the subsequent exchange\u2014captured as Robert and Jessica emerged from the rear patio to inspect the scene\u2014that truly stopped my heart.<\/p>\n

A man\u2019s voice echoed from the laptop speakers. It was Robert, the very man who had gifted me a cashmere baby blanket mere days prior.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet her inside before the Hendersons finish dinner on their patio. The club president lives two doors down.\u201d<\/p>\n

A heavy metallic scraping sound drowned out the background music of the night. It was the iron gate sliding across its tracks.<\/p>\n

Then Jessica\u2019s voice cut through, dripping with venomous irritation. \u201cFine, but don\u2019t track any of that blood onto the foyer rug. If she loses the child over this theatrical nonsense, I swear I\u2019ll never forgive her for the inconvenience.\u201d<\/p>\n

I slowly pried my fingers off the metal rail. My hands were trembling so violently I feared I might shatter the very bedframe. Jessica had not swung the cane. Robert had not physically held me down. But they had stood comfortably in the warm ambient light of the doorway, watching me bleed out upon the gravel, entirely consumed by the urgent logistics of protecting their pristine real estate values and social standing.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have them,\u201d I whispered, a fierce, trembling pride igniting deep within my chest.<\/p>\n

Detective Hayes slowly snapped the laptop shut, his expression grim. \u201cWe have a very strong start, Sarah. But I have to be completely honest with you. A high-priced defense attorney will argue that these audio snippets have been stripped of visual context. They will claim they were attempting to restrain you during a severe psychiatric episode. We need an airtight confession to bridge the gap between the audio and the physical evidence.\u201d<\/p>\n

A cold dread pooled in my stomach, threatening to suffocate the fragile spark of hope that had just ignited. The realization was brutal: the Sterling family possessed an inexhaustible financial reservoir. If they presented a unified front of coordinated perjury, could their expensive lawyers systematically dismantle our digital proof?<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do we break them?\u201d I asked, my voice dropping to a fierce rasp.<\/p>\n

Hayes offered a thin, predatory smile. \u201cPrisoner\u2019s dilemma. We isolate them, strip away their collective delusion, and let the sheer weight of their individual cowardice crush them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cliffhanger: As Hayes stood up to walk out of the room, he leaned down and whispered, \u201cWe are taking David in for formal interrogation in ten minutes. But before we do, his mother just fired their family lawyer and hired a shark who specializes in destroying victims\u2019 credibility. Are you ready for what comes next?\u201d
\n
\nChapter 4: Architecture of a Confession
\nUnder the glaring, merciless light of the police precinct\u2019s holding wing, the united front of the Sterling dynasty was rapidly dissolving under the acidic pressure of uncertainty and isolation.<\/p>\n

Detective Hayes had executed his psychological trap with absolute surgical precision. He had separated David, Martha, Robert, and Jessica into four distinct, windowless interrogation cells, depriving them of communication, allowing the toxic vapors of their conflicting lies to fester unchecked.<\/p>\n

David sat hunched over a stainless-steel table in Interrogation Room B, his arrogant posture finally collapsing into a miserable heap of shivering self-preservation. When Hayes finally stepped into the small room, he carried no notepad. He simply carried his laptop, hitting play on a ten-second audio loop.<\/p>\n

Martha\u2019s chilling command rang out in the confined space: \u201cHold her wrists tighter, David\u2026 She needs to understand\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

David\u2019s eyes widened in sheer horror. The realization that his mother\u2014the architect of the entire sadistic enterprise\u2014had been indelibly captured on tape shattered his stoic facade completely. The invincible, untouchable flagship of the Sterling empire was actively sinking, and in that agonizing moment, David\u2019s primary allegiance instantly pivoted from maternal devotion to raw, desperate survival.<\/p>\n

He lurged forward across the metal table, his voice cracking into a panicked, high-pitched plea. \u201cI need to speak to the District Attorney! Cut a deal!\u201d<\/p>\n

Hayes crossed his arms, leaning back against the cinderblock wall. \u201cI\u2019m listening.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was her idea!\u201d David babbled frantically, his finger pointing violently toward the wall separating him from his mother\u2019s cell. \u201cMother said Sarah needed to be taught a lesson for defying the family hierarchy! I didn\u2019t want to use the cane! She forced me to hold her down! I was just trying to keep her from destroying the bloodline!\u201d<\/p>\n

In his desperate, pathetic bid to deflect all criminal culpability away from himself, David had committed the ultimate betrayal. He had thrown the grand matriarch of the dynasty directly under the wheels of the law.<\/p>\n

Down the hall, upon being informed by her court-appointed counsel that her only son had just confessed and implicated her as the sole mastermind, Martha\u2019s legendary composure detonated into screaming, feral fury.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is that lying coward saying?!\u201d her shriek echoed down the concrete corridor, vibrating through the vents. \u201cI am Martha Sterling! Silence him! Do you know who my family is?!\u201d<\/p>\n

The woman who had meticulously regulated every breath, every calorie, and every thought within her fortress was now completely unhinged, her authority entirely obliterated by the recorded words she could no longer control. The fortress of familial loyalty had imploded into radioactive dust.<\/p>\n

I watched the live closed-circuit feed from the observation room, a profound, hollow stillness settling over my soul. David had locked the door to his own prison cell and willingly handed the heavy iron key over to the state.<\/p>\n

Hayes re-entered the observation room a moment later, tossing a thick folder onto the central desk. \u201cWell, that domino effect was almost too easy. David has officially rolled on Robert and Jessica as well. They\u2019re all turning on each other like starving wolves.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd the charges?\u201d I asked, my hand resting gently over my abdomen, feeling the strong, reassuring kick of my child.<\/p>\n

\u201cConspiracy to commit aggravated domestic assault, criminal restraint, tampering with evidence, and depraved indifference,\u201d Hayes listed smoothly. \u201cThey\u2019re facing decades. None of them are walking away from this.\u201d<\/p>\n

A heavy, suffocating weight that had crushed my chest for years finally lifted, evaporating into the cold air. The empire was gone. The pedigree was shattered. And as I looked at my bruised hands resting against my blanket, I realized I was no longer the captive of the Sterling estate. I was a survivor who had burned their golden cage to the ground.<\/p>\n

Cliffhanger: As the precinct doors finally opened to let the morning sun filter in, my phone buzzed against the bedside table. It wasn\u2019t a call from the police or my lawyer. It was a text from an unknown, restricted number: \u201cYou think you\u2019ve won, Sarah. But the Sterling trust fund is untouched, and we own half the judges in this county. Watch your back.\u201d
\n
\nChapter 5: Architecture of Departure
\nSix weeks had elapsed since the heavy iron gates of the Sterling estate had finally been chained and padlocked by federal marshals. The physical healing process was agonizingly slow, a daily exercise in patience as the friction burns faded into silvery scars and the deep muscle bruising slowly retreated from my skin. Yet, the psychological transformation was infinitely more profound.<\/p>\n

David and Martha remained securely remanded without bail, their exorbitant legal team repeatedly failing to secure their release as the mountain of forensic evidence\u2014bolstered by Greg\u2019s dashcam audio and David\u2019s frantic, cowardly confessions\u2014piled insurmountably high. Robert and Jessica were facing severe felony indictments for obstruction of justice and accessory after the fact, their once-impenetrable social standing reduced to local tabloid fodder and sensationalized true-crime podcast episodes.<\/p>\n

The threatening text message from the restricted number had indeed been traced back to a burner phone purchased by one of the family\u2019s remaining fixers, resulting in an immediate expansion of their indictments for witness intimidation. They were cornered, desperate, and entirely powerless.<\/p>\n

On a crisp, golden autumn morning, I stood before the full-length mirror in my newly rented, modest apartment on the edge of the city. The space was sparse\u2014devoid of heirloom silver, crystal chandeliers, or suffocating ancestral portraits. It smelled simply of fresh paint, brewed coffee, and untainted freedom.<\/p>\n

I carefully slipped my arms into a soft, oversized cotton sweater, deliberately letting the fabric drape loosely over my wrists to comfortably conceal the fading discoloration that remained. My reflection no longer stared back as a frightened, submissive captive cowering beneath the heavy thumb of a tyrant. Instead, the woman looking back at me possessed a fierce, quiet resilience etched into the corners of her eyes.<\/p>\n

A gentle knock rapped against my apartment door.<\/p>\n

Stepping into the entryway, I swung the door open to find Elena, my dedicated victims\u2019 advocate, accompanied by a courier holding a thick, manila envelope bearing the official seal of the State District Attorney\u2019s office.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood morning, Sarah,\u201d Elena smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling with genuine affection. \u201cJust dropping off the final docket schedules for the upcoming pre-trial hearings next month. The prosecutor is confident we won\u2019t even need a full trial; their defense has completely collapsed under the weight of their own infighting.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Elena,\u201d I replied, my voice steady and resolute. I signed the electronic receipt pad, accepting the paperwork that signaled the definitive, legal dismantling of the Sterling dynasty.<\/p>\n

As Elena stepped back out into the sunlit hallway, I walked over to the large bay window overlooking the bustling downtown street below. Below me, ordinary people moved about their lives\u2014pedestrians walking dogs, delivery trucks idling by curbs, mothers pushing strollers without a single armed guard or iron gate in sight.<\/p>\n

I rested both hands protectively over my heavily rounded belly. The baby stirred vigorously, delivering a sharp, defiant kick that resonated deep within my core. We possessed no vast generational trust funds, no sprawling ancestral manors, no hollow aristocratic titles dripping with inherited wealth and dark secrets. We possessed something infinitely more valuable: an unvarnished, hard-fought reality of our own making.<\/p>\n

The fortress of the Sterlings had been reduced to ash, swallowed whole by the relentless machinery of truth and accountability. They had believed that isolation and cruelty could permanently erase my voice, reducing me to a silent ghost haunting the periphery of their grand legacy. Instead, their systemic arrogance had engineered their own catastrophic undoing.<\/p>\n

I turned away from the window, walking back into the quiet warmth of my living room where a small, unadorned crib stood waiting in the corner. The past could no longer shackle me. The ghosts of the manor had finally been exorcised. I was no longer running from the shadows of the past; I was stepping directly into the bright, unwritten dawn of my future.<\/p>\n

Cliffhanger: As I closed the front door and locked it securely behind my advocate, my cell phone chimed once more on the kitchen counter. Thinking it was another update from the prosecutor, I glanced down at the screen. The preview notification displayed a single line of text from an unlisted number: \u201cWe are out on bail, Sarah. And we know where you sleep.\u201d
\n
\nChapter 6: Document A
\nThe sudden ping of the phone shattered the quiet morning air, but unlike the paralyzing terror that once would have seized my chest months ago, the notification elicited only a cold, crystalline numbness.<\/p>\n

I picked up the device, my fingers steady as I unlocked the screen. The text was accompanied by a digital photograph attachment. I tapped it open, and the image loaded instantly: a close-up shot of the heavy wooden discipline bench in the Eastern garden of the Sterling estate, now wrapped in yellow police tape, bathed in the gray light of dawn. Attached beneath it was a laughing-emoji reaction from a burner account.<\/p>\n

A bitter, humorless smile touched my lips. They still didn\u2019t understand. They genuinely believed that intimidation was still a currency that held value in my world. They thought the mere shadow of the estate could still induce the shivering compliance of the past.<\/p>\n

Without a moment of hesitation, I forwarded the screenshot and the phone number directly to Detective Hayes, appending a concise message: \u201cViolation of release conditions. They\u2019re running scared.\u201d<\/p>\n

Within ten minutes, my phone rang. It was Hayes, his voice booming with satisfaction over the speaker. \u201cGood catch, Sarah. That burner phone was pinging a cell tower three blocks from a bail bondsman downtown. Martha and David\u2019s bail has just been officially revoked by the judge. They\u2019re heading straight back to maximum security\u2014this time, with zero chance of release before trial.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Detective,\u201d I replied evenly. \u201cI\u2019ll see you at the deposition.\u201d<\/p>\n

I ended the call, tossed the phone back onto the kitchen counter, and felt a profound, settling peace wash over my entire being. The desperate, flailing maneuvers of a dying predator no longer held any power to terrify me. The invisible chains forged by years of psychological manipulation had finally dissolved into nothingness.<\/p>\n

An hour later, I pulled my coat on and stepped out into the crisp, invigorating autumn air. The walk to the local caf\u00e9 was short, the streets alive with the vibrant pulse of ordinary life. As I sat down at a small corner table bathed in warm sunlight, sipping a steaming cup of tea, I pulled out a small leather-bound journal from my tote bag.<\/p>\n

Opening to a blank page, I picked up a pen and began to write\u2014not out of trauma, nor out of fear, but simply to document the architecture of my own liberation. I wrote about the silence that preceded the storm, the shattering of the illusion, the unyielding strength found in unexpected allies like Greg, and the ultimate triumph of a truth that could no longer be buried beneath wealth, intimidation, or stone walls.<\/p>\n

The journey had been long, arduous, and paved with unimaginable pain, but as I looked out at the sunlit world rushing past the caf\u00e9 window, I knew one absolute truth with every fiber of my being: the monsters no longer lived under my bed. They were locked away behind iron bars, where they belonged. And for the first time in my life, the future was entirely, beautifully mine to write.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Chapter 1: The Bastion and the Spark The Sterling estate occupied the secluded, twisting terminus of a private lane nestled deep within an affluent American suburb\u2014a sanctuary that prided itself … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":14152,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-14151","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family-drama-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14151","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=14151"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14151\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14153,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14151\/revisions\/14153"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/14152"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=14151"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=14151"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=14151"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}