“She wrote about raising Sam,” Leo said. “She has a schedule. Nanny interviews. Nursery designs.”

“She wanted to replace me,” I said.

“She planned this from the start, Grace,” Leo said. “She wrote about isolating you. ‘Keep her away from her family. Limit her phone calls.'”

A cold dread washed over me.

The broken phone line.

The car keys that kept disappearing.

It hadn’t been my forgetfulness.

“She knew exactly what she was doing,” I said.

“There’s a page here from three days ago,” Leo said. “‘Melanie is doing her part. She has the device. We will ensure the messages are never received.'”

“The device?” I asked. “What device?”

“My phone,” I said, the realization hitting me. “She’s talking about my phone.”

“I don’t see your phone here,” Leo said. “I’ve searched the entire desk.”

“Where is it, then?” I asked.

“Maybe she has it in her purse,” Leo said. “Or maybe Melanie has it.”

“Melanie is still here at the hospital,” I said. “I just saw her.”

“Grace, do not go near her,” Leo said. “I’m going to take photos of every single page in this notebook.”