“Your son is in custody,” I said. “And he’s going to prison.”

“Landon is a foolish boy who made a mistake,” Patricia said. “But he is still a Bellamy, and that child is a Bellamy.”

“Rowan is my son,” I said. “You will never see him again.”

“We have resources, Marissa,” Patricia said, her voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. “More resources than you can possibly imagine.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked.

“It’s a fact,” she said. “I’ve already hired the best family law firm in the state. We are filing our own petition.”

“For what?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“For full custody of Rowan,” Patricia said. “And we are going to prove that you are mentally unfit to care for him.”

I gripped the phone so hard my fingers ached.

“You locked us in a house without power,” I said, my voice shaking with rage.

“You have no proof of that,” Patricia said.

“Actually, we do,” I said. “The police have the digital logs from the airport.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.