My phone, sitting in the cup holder, began to buzz violently.

The screen showed an incoming call from an unknown number.

I picked it up, my fingers shaking as I pressed the screen.

“Hello?” I said.

“Emma,” a voice said on the other end.

It wasn’t Ryan.

It was a woman’s voice, sharp and precise.

“This is Helen Vance, Marcus’s senior partner,” she said. “We just received a filing from your husband’s legal team.”

My heart stopped. “What filing?”

“They are petitioning for emergency sole custody of Ethan,” Helen said, her voice cutting through the static of the truck’s speakers. “And they’ve cited your medical event as proof that you are mentally and physically unfit to care for the child.”

“What did she say?” Thomas asked, his voice low and steady.

I lowered the phone from my ear.

My hand was shaking so badly I could barely hold the plastic case.

“Ryan is suing for sole custody,” I whispered.

“On what grounds?”

“He says my hemorrhage proves I’m unfit,” I said. “He says I’m mentally and physically incapable of taking care of Ethan.”