“I was in the closet,” I whispered, flat and dead. “Looking for Noah’s blanket. I can’t find his blanket.”

The crisis was averted. But I spent the next five days in agonizing suspense. I had no way to contact Lucas. I didn’t know if he’d confronted Vanessa, if she’d manipulated him back onto their side, or if they’d taken the evidence straight to Grant to destroy.

I had handed my only weapon to the enemy’s brother.

The morning of July 16th arrived. The day of the hearing.

They dressed me in a conservative beige suit. Grant rode in the town car with me, holding my hand for the driver’s benefit, his thumb stroking my knuckles in a terrifying pantomime of affection.

“It’ll be over soon, Evie,” he murmured. “You’re going to get the help you need. I promise.”