“It doesn’t matter if it’s a lie,” Marcus said. “If a judge signs the temporary emergency order, the police will have to hand the boys over to Vivian’s custody until a hearing can be held.”

“She’s trying to get them before the paternity papers are filed in court,” Garrett said, his eyes widening.

“Exactly,” Marcus said. “Once she has the kids, she has the leverage to force you to return the voting rights.”

The SUV swerved onto the highway leading toward the suburbs.

Every second felt like an hour.

I looked down at my hands.

They were wet with rain and trembling.

“They are my sons, Garrett,” I whispered. “I won’t let her touch them.”

“She won’t,” Garrett said.

But his voice lacked conviction. He had spent his entire life fearing his mother.

We took the exit toward my mother’s quiet neighborhood in Lake Geneva.

The streets here were dark, lined with tall oak trees that bowed under the force of the wind.

The SUV bounced as we hit a deep puddle.

Water splashed over the hood, blinding us for a brief second.