The marriage had been failing for months. My mistake was believing the damage was contained to the adults.

At eleven thirty, a social services representative named Amanda Foster arrived with emergency custody paperwork. I read every line before I signed.

“Samantha Carroll will have no contact with Chloe until a family court judge reviews this,” Amanda said, glancing at the sleeping child on the couch. “Given the footage and the police reports, we’ll file an emergency order first thing in the morning.”

“That’s what needs to happen,” I said.

Chloe stirred against my arm, half asleep, her fingers still knotted in my sleeve.

“Is Mommy coming back here?”