“I’m right here,” he murmured near my ear. “Just breathe.”

We walked into the courtroom.

The room was chilly, the high ceilings making every footstep echo.

Grant was already sitting at the table on the right side of the aisle.

He looked polished in a dark gray suit, his hair perfectly combed.

Beside him sat his fiancée, Vanessa Hale, looking elegant in a tailored navy dress.

She didn’t look at me, keeping her eyes fixed on the empty judge’s bench.

Behind them in the first row of the gallery sat Evelyn Whitmore.

She wore a cream-colored wool coat and three strands of pearls around her neck.

Evelyn caught my eye and gave me a cold, patronizing smile.

We took our seats at the left table.

Judge Henderson, a sharp-eyed woman with silver hair, entered from her chambers.

We all stood as the bailiff called the court to order.

“We are here today regarding the emergency custody petition for Rosemary Whitmore,” Judge Henderson said.

She adjusted her glasses and looked down at the paperwork in front of her.

“I have reviewed the preliminary report from the Department of Children’s Services,” she said.