The screen door slammed behind us, sealing in the stifling tension of the San Diego house I thought was a sanctuary. My fingers tightened around Nora’s small, cold hand as we walked down the concrete driveway toward my car.

The screen door slammed behind us, sealing in the stifling tension of the San Diego house I thought was a sanctuary. My fingers tightened around Nora’s small, cold hand as we walked down the concrete driveway toward my car. Every muscle in my body coiled like a rusted spring. Behind us, Vanessa stood on the porch, her silhouette framed by the midday glare, a motionless statue of calculated fury. I could feel her gaze burning into our backs, calculating, adjusting, weaponizing our sudden departure.

"Daddy, is she going to follow us?" Nora whispered, her voice trembling as she climbed into the passenger seat and pulled her safety belt across her chest with frantic fingers.

"No one is following us, sweetheart. You're safe now," I murmured, though the hollow ring of my own voice terrified me. I wasn’t safe. We weren't safe. Not yet.

I pulled out of the driveway and immediately dialed Caleb Price. His deep, gravelly voice answered on the first ring.

"Ethan. I looked at those metadata logs on the cloud backup you sent me. It's worse than we thought. Colin isn't just some guy from a bar. He’s Colin Vance—a disbarred family law attorney specializing in asset stripping and fabricated psychiatric evaluations. He’s tied to three other wealthy widowers whose kids mysteriously 'snapped' before the fathers signed over high-value trusts."

My foot slammed harder on the accelerator, the engine roaring as we blew through a yellow light. Seven million dollars in Coronado oceanfront property. That was the price tag Vanessa and Colin had put on my daughter's sanity, on my life, on the memory of Grace.

"Where are you?" Caleb asked sharply.

"Heading to Louise’s place in La Jolla. It’s secure. Her late husband was a federal judge; the security system is military-grade."

"Bad idea," Caleb interrupted, his tone chillingly flat. "If Colin is orchestrating this, his tentacles reach deeper than local courts. If you hole up at a friend's house, they’ll file an emergency ex parte custody order claiming you’re fleeing with an unstable child. They’ll have the local police intercept you within two hours. You need to go on the offensive."

"What do you mean, offensive?"

"I mean, we don't run. We trap them in their own web. Bring Nora to my safehouse off Mira Mesa. I’ve already got a federal prosecutor on standby who owes me a favor. But Ethan? While we were talking, my scraper bots picked up a new transmission leaving Vanessa’s phone to Colin. The timeline just accelerated."

"What did it say?"