PART 17

Celeste arranged to meet me at Ruth’s office after several weeks of refusing to communicate except through angry voice messages.

She arrived wearing pearls and a pale-blue suit, accompanied by a lawyer who looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

“I hope you’ll stop this ridiculous campaign against my son,” she said before sitting down.

I held Oliver in his carrier beside my chair.

He was sleeping, cheeks pink beneath a soft cap.