“For today, yes,” Grace said.

“But he’s going to strike back, Vivian.”

“And it won’t be in a courtroom next time.”

We watched them retreat through the vestry door.

The heavy oak door clicked shut, leaving the chapel suddenly very quiet.

The bishop sighed, closing his liturgy book with a soft thud.

“I am sorry for the disruption, Bishop,” I said.

He looked at me with a mixture of pity and exhaustion.

“Go in peace, child,” he said softly.

“But protect your daughter.”

Grace and I walked out of the main entrance, down the stone steps.

The Newport air was crisp, carrying the scent of salt from the ocean.

Reporters were gathered at the edge of the property, held back by iron gates.

We walked quickly to Grace’s black sedan parked near the curb.

Once inside, the heavy doors shut out the noise of the wind.

I leaned my head back against the leather headrest.

My hands were shaking now.

“What is his next move?” I asked.

Grace started the engine, her eyes scanning the rearview mirror.

“He’ll try to invalidate your standing as Lily’s guardian,” she said.