At the VIP clinic, I was helping my nine-month pregnant daughter change for her final ultrasound. The moment her shirt slipped off, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

needed an audience. He wanted to stand here, playing the role of the perfect father, while Chloe endured everything in silence.

I sat beside her and opened my handbag. Beneath tissues and a silk scarf, my fingers found the second phone—encrypted, untraceable, invisible to anything Julian could monitor.

Chloe noticed. Her breath caught. “Mom, don’t do continue reading …