The knocking came again, three hard blows that made Emma jump.

“Stay behind me,” I told her.

Rachel seized my arm.

“If you open that door, you’ll make everything worse.”

“For you?”

“For Emma,” she snapped.

“Think before you ruin her life.”

I pulled away and opened the door.

Vivian Carter stood on the porch.

She was Emma’s maternal grandmother, but she had barely spoken to me since her daughter Laura passed away.

A leather folder was tucked beneath her arm.

“Where is Emma?” Vivian demanded.

Emma peeked around my leg.

“Grandma?”

Vivian’s stern expression broke.

She stepped forward, but Emma retreated and grabbed my trousers.

“What happened to her hands?” Vivian asked.

“Ask Rachel.”

Rachel hurried into the hall.

“Thank goodness you’re here.

Michael frightened her when he came home.”

“You put my daughter in a doghouse,” I said.

Vivian stopped.

“What did you say?”

“He’s twisting everything,” Rachel replied.

“Emma had a tantrum, so she went outside to calm down.”

“I didn’t want to go,” Emma whispered.

“Aunt Rachel locked the door.”

Vivian looked from Emma to Rachel.

“You told me Michael was doing this.”

Silence filled the hall.

I held up the black notebook.

“Were you sending Rachel money?”

Vivian tightened her grip on the folder.

“I paid her to document what was happening in this house.”

“You paid her to photograph Emma working?”

“She said you forced Emma to clean while you stayed out drinking.”

“I was working double shifts.”

Rachel moved between us.

“Don’t listen to him, Vivian.

You’ve seen the photographs.”

I opened the back door and pointed toward the doghouse.

The pink blanket was still inside.

“Did Rachel tell you who put that there?”

Vivian stepped onto the patio.

Her hand rose to her mouth when she saw Emma’s rabbit.

“She sent me a picture of this,” she said.

“She claimed Michael made Emma sleep there.”

Rachel’s voice sharpened.

“Because that’s what Emma told me.”

Emma shook her head.

“You told me Daddy would go away if I didn’t say it.”

Vivian turned slowly.

“Rachel, what have you done?”

“Nothing you didn’t ask me to do.”

“I asked you to protect my granddaughter.”

“You asked me to help you get custody,” Rachel fired back.

“Don’t pretend you’re innocent now.”

I unfolded the paper from the notebook.

It granted Vivian temporary custody and gave Rachel authority to handle the transfer.

“My signature is forged.”

Vivian opened her folder.

“Rachel said you agreed.

She said the final payment was for legal filing fees.”

“How much have you paid her?”

“Seven thousand dollars.”

Rachel laughed without humor.

“You wanted proof.

Proof costs money.”

“You manufactured it,” I said.

Rachel reached for her phone, but Vivian picked it up first.

“Give me that,” Rachel ordered.

“No.”

“You’ve been texting me for months, Vivian.

If I fall, you fall with me.”

Vivian’s face drained of color, yet she placed the phone in my hand.

“Keep it,” she said.

“Every message is still there.”

Rachel backed toward the stairs.

“You’re choosing him over your own daughter’s memory.”

“Laura would never forgive me for believing you.”

Rachel grabbed a ceramic bowl from the hall table and hurled it at the floor.

Emma screamed as it shattered.

“Don’t come closer!” Rachel shouted.

“I’m calling the police.”

“To tell them what?” I asked.

“That you grabbed me.

That you threatened me.

And that child services needs to see how Emma has been living.”

She dialed before I could respond.

Then Rachel smiled at me.

“Let’s see who they believe.”