The phone in my hand went dead.

I stood frozen on the stairs, the rain outside suddenly sounding like a warning.

“Maria?” I called into the empty line. “Maria, answer me.”

There was only static.

Garrett took a step toward me, reaching out, but I shrank back, my mind racing as the true battle for my sons finally began.

“Clara, let me help you,” Garrett pleaded.

“Stay away from me,” I whispered.

I turned and ran down the remaining stairs, heading for the heavy glass doors and the waiting SUV.

The rain hit my face like needles as I burst out into the cold Lake Geneva air, my phone still clutched in my hand.

Behind me, the mansion doors remained open, spilling warm yellow light onto the wet driveway.

I hopped into the back seat of the SUV, slamming the door shut.

“Drive,” I told the chauffeur. “Get us to the highway now.”

As the vehicle surged forward, I stared at my phone, trying to redial the nanny’s number.

The call went straight to voicemail.

I looked out the window, watching the dark trees of the Bradford estate blur into the rainy night.