Carter blinked, then his posture straightened.

A look of relief, thin and oily, washed over his face.

“Yes,” Carter said.

“It arrived at the office this morning.”

“Good,” Vivian said.

She looked back at me, her blue eyes hard as ice.

“You’ve been under a tremendous amount of stress since June was born, Evelyn.”

“The birth was difficult.”

“You lost a lot of blood.”

“You’ve been staying in that drafty cottage, refusing to see your family.”

“You’ve been having… delusions.”

My grip tightened on the recorder in my pocket.

“I am perfectly sane, Vivian,” I said.

“That is not what the medical professionals think,” Vivian said.

“Dr. Aris has been reviewing your files.”

“And your recent behavior.”

“The obsession with the company books.”

“The middle-of-the-night calls to your lawyer.”

“The paranoia.”

“It’s a very clear case of postpartum psychosis.”

Sloane looked between us, her panic momentarily suspended by confusion.

“What?” Sloane asked.

“We have already filed the emergency petition,” Carter said, his voice gaining strength.

He took a step toward me, his shoulders back.

“For your own safety, Evelyn.”

“And for June’s.”