Click. Jiggle. Curse.

“It’s not turning,” Ryan growled through the wood. “She changed the damn locks.”

“Stand back,” Arthur said.

Fists hammered against the door hard enough to shake the frame. “Claire! This is not a negotiation! You are unwell! You are having an episode, and as your legal conservator, I am ordering you to open this door before you hurt yourself!”

Legal conservator.

Hearing him say the lie out loud — hearing him take the worst months of my life and file them as a weapon — burned the fear right out of me and left something cold and clear behind.