Robert stepped out first, frantic and unshaven, a far cry from his usual polished self. Then Vanessa, clutching a designer handbag like a shield. Finally, my mother emerged from the backseat, looking ten years older, frail, her eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses.

Emily grabbed my arm. Lily was upstairs in her playroom.

“Stay here,” I told my wife, grabbing the thick manila folder from my desk. “Do not open the door, no matter what.”

I stepped out onto the freezing porch and pulled the front door firmly shut behind me. The winter air bit at my face.

“Daniel,” my mother called, her voice trembling with unconvincing authority. “We’re a family. We are not doing this silent-treatment nonsense anymore.

I demand to see my granddaughter.”