“Who told you to drug Grace Sullivan?”

“My mother,” Melanie whispered.

The defense attorney jumped up.

“Objection! Her mother is not on trial for criminal charges in this specific hearing.”

“Overruled,” the judge said.

“This is a custody and protection hearing,” the judge said. “The fitness of the household is directly at issue.”

Mr. Miller took a step closer to Melanie.

“And the straps, Melanie?” he asked.

“The straps found in the crawl space with your fingerprints on them?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to,” Melanie said.

A tear ran down her cheek, leaving a wet line through her heavy makeup.

“Did you tie Grace Sullivan’s wrists to the bed frame?” Mr. Miller asked.

“Yes,” Melanie sobbed.

I closed my eyes.

The memory of the rough fabric cutting into my skin rushed back, making my chest tighten.

Leo’s grip on my hand tightened, his knuckles turning white.

“Why did you do it, Melanie?” Mr. Miller asked.

“Why would you do that to your brother’s wife?”

Melanie shook her head, her shoulders shaking.

“She was going to take the baby,” Melanie said.