Eleanor gripped her purse.

Chloe stared at the floor, her bracelet catching the light whenever her hands moved.

I knew about the letter.

It was purportedly written by a physician I had visited once for migraines three years earlier.

According to the copy Julian attached to his petition, the doctor had treated me for repeated episodes of disorientation and advised that I avoid unsupervised childcare.

The document bore an official-looking stamp and the doctor’s name.