Every date, every visitation exchange, and every phone call was documented there.

I stacked the documents neatly, ready for the morning.

Just then, my cell phone on the table began to vibrate.

The screen lit up with an incoming call from an unknown number.

I hesitated, looking at my mother.

I swiped the screen to answer and held the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I said.

“Claire Bellamy?” a raspy, quiet voice asked.

“Yes, this is Claire.”

“Don’t say my name,” the voice on the other end whispered.

“Daniel?” I whispered back, my grip tightening on the receiver.

My mother leaned in closer, her face pale under the kitchen light.

“I told you not to say my name,” the voice hissed.

There was a sound of rushing wind in the background, like he was standing on a noisy street corner.

“Why are you calling me, Daniel?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Because Grant is going to ruin me, and he’s going to take your kid just to prove he can,” he said.

He took a sharp, ragged breath.