“I’m calling a locksmith right now,” I said, my logistics brain firing. “You have a key. Drop everything, drive to my house, act completely normal, and get Brooke and Jonah out. Any excuse — a surprise doctor’s appointment, a postnatal massage. Just get them to your car and drive.”

“What if she tries to stop me?”

“She won’t. Mom cares too much about her image to look like a monster in front of you. She thinks she still has you fooled. Play on that.”

“And what are you going to do?”

On the screen, Brooke was trying to lower herself from the chair, weeping, her hands reaching toward the broken glass while Lorraine stood over her bouncing a screaming Jonah with sadistic triumph.

“I’m going to make sure she never sets foot in our lives again.”