There were text messages between Heather and the doctor.

She’s still too alert. Still asking about the finances, Heather had written.

Increase the dose gradually, he’d answered. If she faints at work, tell everyone it was an anxiety attack.

Another from Heather: Once she loses the girl, she’ll fall apart on her own, and then Bradley can sign for everything.

I had to sit down, my legs shaking. Katherine hadn’t been imagining things out of jealousy or exhaustion, the way I’d assumed. They were drugging her and teaching her to doubt her own mind.

“I should have seen it. I should have protected her,” I whispered, tears running down my face.