Inside was a copy of the notarized power of attorney. Edward Vance and Sylvia Armenta were listed as the authorized witnesses.

But the second page made my stomach turn over.

It was a medical appointment with a clinical psychiatrist named Dr. Marcella Pineda. And attached to it was a drafted emergency petition for custody.

Edward was planning to use the medicated signatures to claim I was mentally unstable. He wanted to take Danny and leave me with absolutely nothing.

He didn’t just want my savings. He wanted to strip me of my child.

Now, Edward was walking back into the kitchen, his phone pressed to his ear. He hung up and demanded to know why my ticket was manually canceled from my phone.

I took a deep breath. I looked at the green ceramic mug on the counter.

“Because I know about Sylvia, Edward,” I said calmly.

He froze. For a fraction of a second, his face went completely white.

Then he recovered, letting out a dry, mocking laugh, and told me I was just having another paranoid episode.

“I have the notary file, Edward,” I said, pulling the papers from under the magazine and laying them on the kitchen island. “I know about the psychiatry appointment. I know about the custody petition.”

His eyes locked onto the document. The smugness drained from his face, replaced by a cold, ugly sneer.

“It doesn’t matter what you know,” he whispered, leaning over the counter. “You signed the power of attorney. The notary stamped it. By tomorrow, your accounts will be empty, and I’ll have a court order for Danny. You’re done here.”

He genuinely believed his own wrong logic. In his head, he deserved the money because he was the successful one, and I was just the quiet wife who saved pennies.

“Actually, Edward, it does matter,” a voice called out from the back door.

Edward spun around, his mouth falling slightly open.

Eleanor stepped into the kitchen. Behind her were two uniformed county sheriffs and a man holding a legal clipboard.

The deputy walked forward and served him with an emergency restraining order and a suspension of all power of attorney privileges.

Edward shouted that it was a civil matter and that I signed the papers voluntarily.

But Eleanor explained that the notary seal was verified as a forgery. The clerk confirmed the notary was never present, and having Sylvia sign as a witness made it a felony.

The second deputy stepped up, pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt, and told him to turn around.

The click of the handcuffs was the loudest sound I’ve ever heard.

Edward looked at me, his eyes wide with a mix of fury and panic. He looked smaller. The expensive tailored shirt suddenly looked ridiculous on him.

He pleaded with me to think about Danny as they led him toward the door.

“I am thinking about Danny,” I said.