“Of course, Mr. Bennett,” she said softly.

She disappeared down the hallway, leaving us in the quiet room.

The fire crackled in the hearth, but it did nothing to warm me.

“Nora is already on her way,” Richard said, pulling out his own phone.

“I called her the moment Margaret started speaking.”

He pressed a button and put the phone to his ear.

“Nora, we have a development,” he said.

He explained the psychiatric report in quick, precise sentences.

I sank into the leather armchair, burying my face in my hands.

The thought of my daughters being dragged into a courtroom made my stomach turn.

Olivia was only eight, Grace was five, and Lily was barely three.

They had already lost their father.

They couldn’t lose me too.

Richard hung up the phone and walked over to me.

He knelt down so we were at eye level.

“Look at me, Emily,” he said.

I forced myself to meet his steady, dark eyes.

“I will not let her touch those girls,” he said.

“I have resources she cannot begin to match.”