“If he looks over, he’ll see the screen,” I said.

“I’m dimming the brightness,” Nora said.

The glare in the car softened, leaving us in near-total shadow.

My phone buzzed in my hand again.

This time, it wasn’t a call.

It was a text message from Julian.

I tapped the screen to open it.

*I know she is with you, Madeline,* the message read.

*Tell Clara her personal accounts have been flagged for fraudulent activity. They are frozen.*

My stomach plummeted.

“Nora,” I said, holding up the phone.

Nora glanced at the screen, her brow furrowing.

“He’s cutting her off,” Nora said. “He’s trying to starve her out so she has to go back.”

“She has nothing of her own,” I said. “Everything she has is tied to his family’s banks.”

The man with the umbrella stopped twenty feet from our rear bumper.

He stood under the yellow light of a security lamp, looking toward the main doors of the hospital.

The rain drummed heavily on our roof, a steady, suffocating beat.

“There’s more,” Nora said, her voice dropping an octave.