“It was never mine anyway,” he said. “It was Helena’s.”

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated in my hand.

I looked down at the screen.

It was an incoming call from the private security firm I had hired to watch my house in Chicago.

I answered it quickly.

“Emma?” the guard’s voice was frantic over the line.

“What is it?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“There’s a black town car idling at your front gate,” the guard said. “A woman just got out. She has local police officers with her.”

“She has local police officers with her.”

My fingers tightened around the plastic casing of my phone.

“Which officers?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly.

“Two squad cars,” the guard, Miller, said. “They have their lights flashing, Emma. She is claiming she has a court order for an emergency wellness check on the children.”

My boys were inside with my sister, Clara.

I looked at Blake.

He was already reaching for his own phone, his face pale under the harsh studio lights.

“Who is at the house?” Blake asked me.