He did not argue. He did not apologize. He stared at me like a man who had never imagined his silence might one day cost him something.

I took Beatatrix’s hand. Then I reached for Callahan. The three of us left the dining room, crossed the front hall, and climbed into my car. I was still wearing the dress I had bought for Grantham.

Chapter 6 — The House That Opened Its Door

I drove straight to my parents’ house, forty minutes away. The children were unusually quiet in the back seat, streetlights passing over their faces as we followed the interstate west, beyond shopping centers closing for the night and neighborhoods settling into the peaceful Saturday evening I had wanted for us.

My hands stayed steady on the wheel until I pulled into my parents’ circular driveway. Then they began to tremble.

Mom opened the front door before I could knock. She looked at my face, then at the children beside me. “Come in, baby,” she said. “You’re safe here now.”

My parents’ home had always felt like a fortress — but not one built to keep anyone obedient. It was built to protect the people inside. Within a day, Mom prepared the guest wing for us.