“Look for any connection between Sloane and Apex Meridian.”

“I’m on it,” Marcus said. “I will call you the moment I have something.”

I hung up the phone and rubbed my temples.

The pressure in my chest was tightening.

Nolan’s media stunt was already spreading online, the views climbing by the thousands.

I opened a local news site and saw his face on the homepage.

The comments section was already filling with anger directed at my family.

They did not know the truth.

They did not know about the Delaware loan, or the stolen funds, or the fabricated medical records sitting on my table.

I walked over to the manila envelope Marjorie had left behind.

I opened it and pulled out the papers.

The letterhead was from the West Chester Psychiatric Center.

The details were horrifyingly specific.

Dates of visits I had never made, with descriptions of symptoms I had never experienced.

Prescriptions I had never been written.

It was a thorough, professional assassination of my character.

If this reached a judge before we could disprove it, it could delay my custody petition for months.