He placed the papers back in the folder.

“Ethan, you need to assume your father has prepared alternatives.”

“He always does.”

Daniel’s phone rang.

He looked at the screen.

“It’s the estate security office.”

He put the call on speaker.

“This is Mercer.”

A man’s voice responded.

“Mr. Mercer, there are attorneys at the front gate requesting entry. They say they represent Mrs. Emma Carter.”

Emma and I looked at each other.

“I have no attorney,” she said.

Daniel spoke into the phone.

There was a pause.

“Rebecca Sloan and Michael Trent, Sloan Family Law.”

Emma went completely still.

“You know them?” I asked.

She nodded slowly.

“Rebecca Sloan represented my mother.”

“For what?”

“My parents’ divorce.”

That did not explain the fear in her face.

Daniel asked the guard to hold the attorneys at the gate and ended the call.

“Why would your mother’s divorce lawyer be at our house?” I asked.

Emma looked down at her bandaged hands.

“Because I called her six months ago.”

“She told me to document everything. The account restrictions. The messages. The staff changes. She also told me to prepare in case I needed to leave quickly.”

“The suitcases?”

“I packed them weeks ago.”

I stared at her.

“You were planning to leave me.”

“I was planning to protect Sophie.”

The distinction hurt because it was deserved.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because every time I tried, your parents reminded me that they controlled the money, the house, and access to you.”

“You could have gone to Rebecca.”

“Then why are her attorneys at the estate tonight?”

Emma looked toward the door.

“I don’t know.”

Daniel’s phone rang again.

The security office.

He answered.

The guard sounded more unsettled this time.

“Mr. Mercer, Mrs. Sloan says she has a court order authorizing access to retrieve documents belonging to her client.”

“What documents?” Daniel asked.

“A sealed family file and a child-custody affidavit.”

Emma sat upright.

“What affidavit?”

The guard hesitated.

“She says it was signed by Mr. Ethan Carter.”

I stared at Daniel.

“I signed no custody affidavit.”

Emma’s face changed.

Daniel asked the guard to photograph the first page and send it securely.

The image arrived seconds later.

He opened it.

My name appeared at the bottom.

The signature looked perfect.

Above it was a statement declaring that Emma had displayed signs of emotional instability, misused household funds, and interfered with my contact with Sophie.

I read the date.

Six months earlier.

The same week Emma said she had tried to leave.

“This says I requested temporary protective custody,” I said.

Emma did not look at me.

“Your parents showed it to me.”

My stomach dropped.

“The night I packed Sophie’s things.”