When my daughter was rushed to the hospital, I thought the worst was over. Then the doctor pulled me aside, gave me an envelope, and told me to vanish with my grandchildren before nightfall.

“What are you showing her?”

He was walking toward us quickly. Dr. Carter shifted slightly in front of me. “Mr. Whitaker, please return to the waiting area.”

Brent smiled, but his eyes looked dead. “That’s my family.”

I slipped the envelope behind my back. His eyes immediately dropped toward my hand. “What’s that?”

“Medical paperwork,” I answered.

For one horrifying second, his mask slipped completely. His face transformed into something cold, furious, and terrifyingly familiar. Then the fake smile returned again.

“Margaret,” he said softly, “Emily gets confused when she’s under stress. You know how dramatic she can become.”