“I’ll be there,” I said.

Marcus Vance drove his own vehicle onto the tarmac, stopping just behind the police cruisers.

He got out of the car, his gray suit immaculate despite the wind.

He walked over to me and offered his arm.

“Your father is waiting at the office, Evelyn,” Marcus said.

“The legal team has already prepared the paperwork for the emergency custody hearing.”

I looked back at the plane.

The pilot was peering out of the small cockpit window, his face pale and neutral.

He slowly closed the window and shut down the engines.

The high-pitched whine of the turbines began to fade.

I walked past Nolan as the officers escorted him toward the back of the first SUV.

He stopped, trying to catch my eye.

“Evelyn, please,” he muttered.

“Think of Maisie.”

“Think of what this will do to her name.”

“I am thinking of Maisie,” I said.

“That’s why you’re never going to see her again.”

His jaw tightened, and for a second, the desperate mask slipped.

I saw the cold, calculating look that had been behind his eyes during our entire marriage.