I looked at the screen.

It was an unknown number, but the area code was from the city.

I hesitated, my finger hovering over the green button.

I remembered Robert’s warning.

The phone stopped vibrating, then immediately started again.

I pressed the button and put the phone to my ear.

I did not speak.

“Claire?” a voice said.

It wasn’t Patricia.

It was Vanessa.

“Claire?” Vanessa repeated.

Her voice sounded thin, stripped of the smug confidence she had carried during the deposition.

I held the phone to my ear, watching the cursor blink on my laptop screen.

“Vanessa,” I said.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” she whispered.

I heard a muffled sound in the background, like a door slamming.

“Daniel is asleep,” she said quickly, her breathing shallow. “He took something to calm down. Claire, his mother is here.”

Before I could respond, there was a rustle of static.

The phone changed hands.

“Claire,” Patricia’s voice cut through the line, sharp and demanding.

“Patricia,” I said, my grip tightening on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“We need to settle this,” Patricia said.