“To prevent her from liquidating her holdings while in this state.”

“She needs immediate, inpatient clinical care.”

I squeezed my hands together in my lap.

The leather of my handbag felt rough against my fingers.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to tell the judge that Dr. Aris had never even sat in a room with me.

But Lydia placed a calm, firm hand on my forearm.

“Wait,” she whispered.

“Let them finish.”

“Your Honor,” Vance said, his voice rising slightly.

“We have witnesses who can attest to Mrs. Hartwell’s erratic behavior.”

“We have statements from the household staff.”

“They describe her locking herself in rooms.”

“They describe her shouting at her husband without provocation.”

“The psychosis has made her paranoid.”

“She is convinced there is a conspiracy to steal her inheritance.”

Vivian dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

She did not have any tears, but she played the part of the grieving mother-in-law well.

“The court must act today,” Vance said.

“Before she does something she cannot undo.”

He sat down.

The courtroom fell silent.

The rain began to tap against the high, arched windows of the courtroom.