“No,” Thomas said, his voice firm and absolute. “You are staying with me. My security system is top-tier, and I know the local police chief. They won’t touch you.”

Helen was already typing on her phone, making a call.

“Get me Judge Harrison’s clerk,” Helen said into the receiver. “We have a critical update on the Parker case.”

***

The next morning, the doctors cleared Ethan for discharge.

The nurse removed his monitors, leaving his tiny ankles free.

We left St. Catherine’s through a secure basement exit to avoid any cameras or unwanted visitors.

Thomas drove us to his home, keeping his eyes on the rearview mirror the entire way.

Two police cruisers were parked near his estate gates, a sight that brought a small wave of relief to my chest.

For the next three days, Thomas’s living room became our war room.

The air smelled of old paper, fresh coffee, and the lavender lotion I used on Ethan.

Helen worked tirelessly, compiling the medical records from my hemorrhage.

She secured the logs showing that Ryan had ignored seventeen calls from the hospital while he was at an exclusive ski lodge in Aspen.