You’re going back to nothing.” Then he added something I did not understand, something about my medical history, about how I would not even need to worry about buying a crib — and a cold, sick dread coiled in me, because I was perfectly healthy, and I did not yet know what he had done.

Before I could ask, the heavy oak doors at the back of the courtroom did not simply open.

They came apart.

Chapter 10 — The Doors

The heavy doors swung back hard enough to rattle the frosted glass, and the room went still.

Four people in dark, unmarked suits came in with quiet, coordinated precision — two sealing the exits, two moving up the center aisle.