“Lily will adapt,” Antoinette said coldly. “She is a Harrow. She belongs with us.”

She turned and walked toward the glass doors of the lobby.

Her driver was waiting outside, holding a black umbrella over the sidewalk.

I watched her step into the back of the sleek black town car.

I stood in the middle of the lobby, clutching the cream-colored envelope so hard the paper creased.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking in my legs.

I needed to get back to Naomi.

The stakes had just become survival.

I walked back to the elevator and pressed the button.

The ride back up felt longer this time.

When I reached the room, Naomi was typing furiously on her laptop.

“What did she want?” Naomi asked without looking up.

I threw the envelope onto the bed.

“She’s going after custody,” I said. “She has my medical records. She’s threatening to paint me as mentally unstable.”

Naomi stopped typing.

She picked up the paper and scanned the list of dates.