She looked at us both.

“And I am issuing a temporary restraining order against Josephine Sullivan.”

“She is to have no contact with the child or the parents until the study is complete.”

Josephine stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“This is absurd,” she hissed, her face contorting.

“Sit down, Mrs. Sullivan,” the judge said coldly.

But Josephine was already gathering her purse, her eyes glaring at me with a cold, burning hatred.

As she turned to leave, I noticed her purse was slightly open.

Inside, tucked into a side pocket, was a small gold corner of a phone case.

My phone.

She had my phone in her purse.

She must have taken it from our kitchen counter before she locked me in.

I gripped Leo’s arm. “Leo,” I whispered. “She has my phone.”

Leo looked at Josephine’s retreating back, his jaw tightening.

He knew what was on that phone—the threats she had texted me, the proof of her harassment.

And if she had the phone, she likely had other things she had stolen from our house to make us look bad.