“He said security would walk me out if I stay past seven days,” I said.

“Arthur represented me for thirty years before Christopher tried to lock me in this bed,” Raymond said, slowly letting go of my wrist and resting his hand on the blanket.

“You stand your ground.”

At eight o’clock that evening, the old electric radiator in the corner of my small nursery room hummed against the baseboard, filling the room with dry heat.

Theodore was sound asleep in his crib, his small fingers wrapped around his blue wool blanket as his fever came down.