For fifty-six weeks, my mother had sat in her room, looking at the door, waiting for me. She had asked for me every single Sunday.

And on the very back page of the folder was the restriction form. It had Janet’s sharp, elegant signature at the bottom.

The reason line didn’t have a doctor’s signature or a court order. It just said: “Family conflict. Guardian’s discretion.”

My sister had kept us apart simply because she could. She wanted to punish me, to control the situation, and she didn’t care that she was breaking our mother’s heart to do it.

I looked up at Ellen, my vision going blurry.

“She asks for you every time she sees a green tin of cookies in the dining room,” Ellen said quietly. “She thinks you forgot about her.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I turned my key in the ignition, put the car in drive, and went straight to the county courthouse.

On Monday morning, I didn’t call Janet. Instead, I walked into the office of Arthur Vance, a retired county probate judge who had worked with my mother for twenty years.

He looked at the visitor logs, and his face turned the color of old paper.

“This is a gross abuse of fiduciary duty,” Arthur said, his voice deep and angry. “She is using her guardianship to isolate a vulnerable adult.”

Within three hours, we filed an emergency petition for temporary co-guardianship and an immediate injunction to restore visitation rights.

The hearing was set for Thursday morning.

Janet showed up at the courthouse wearing her designer sunglasses and her expensive wool coat, looking completely unbothered.

She smirked at me when she walked in.

“You’re making a scene over nothing, Sarah,” she whispered as she passed my bench. “I am the guardian.

I have the legal right to decide what is best for Mom.”

She didn’t know about the folder.

When the judge, a stern woman named Miller, read Ellen’s affidavit and looked at the fifty-six weeks of visitor logs, she didn’t even ask Janet to speak.

She just slammed her gavel down.

“The guardianship is suspended pending a full psychological evaluation of the ward’s best interests,” Judge Miller announced. “Full, unrestricted visitation is restored to Sarah immediately.”

Janet’s smirk vanished. She turned to her high-priced lawyer, her face suddenly looking old and sharp. She didn’t look at me as they walked out of the courtroom.

I drove straight to Meadowview.

I didn’t stop at the front desk. I just walked right past the girl with the ink smudge and took the elevator to the third floor.

When I opened the door to room 312, the room was very quiet.

My mother was sitting in a chair by the window, the autumn light hitting her thin white hair.

I walked over and knelt beside her.

“Mama,” I said, my voice cracking. “It’s Sarah.”