The October wind off the Rockies carried the scent of wet pine and incoming snow.

My three-day-old daughter, Ivy, whimpered against my chest.

I pulled the fleece blanket tighter around her tiny, fragile shoulders.

The heavy iron latch of our front door remained stubbornly still.

“Brent!” I called out, my voice cracking from exhaustion.

I banged my fist against the thick mahogany.

The postpartum soreness in my lower back throbbed with every movement.

The hospital band was still looped around my wrist, a bright pink strip of plastic.

Through the narrow glass side panel, I saw my husband, Brent, standing in the warmth of the foyer.

He was wearing his expensive cashmere sweater and holding a black leather duffel bag.

“Brent, please,” I said, my breath fogging the cold glass. “Ivy needs to nurse. It’s starting to rain.”

He didn’t move toward the lock.

Instead, he looked down at his watch and then back at me with a cold, distant expression.

“You need to calm down, Tessa,” his voice drifted through the brass intercom speaker on the wall.

“Calm down? You locked us out,” I said.

“My mother and Karen are inside,” Brent said. “They agree with me. You’re too hysterical to be around the family right now.”

I stared at him, stunned.

My mother-in-law, Diane, appeared in the hallway behind him, holding a steaming mug of tea.

She didn’t look at me; she just nodded once at Brent and whispered something in his ear.

“We need to protect the family estate, Tessa,” Brent continued through the speaker. “We’ll talk about letting you back in when I get back from Miami.”

“Miami?” I whispered. “You’re leaving for your trip now? Today?”

“The boys are waiting at the airport,” he said.

He adjusted the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder.

“Sign the paper I left on the kitchen counter to put the house in the family trust,” Brent said. “Then Karen will unlock the door for you.”

He turned away from the glass.

“Brent!” I screamed, banging on the door again until my knuckles bruised.

A sleek black SUV pulled into the circular driveway of our Redwood Crest Drive mansion.