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The girls and I are headed back to California next week. It took a couple of weeks, but the DCF investigation is closed, all the charges unsubstantiated. We’re just waiting for the final paperwork before we return to California. I’ve never been so eager to leave a place in my life. My phone rings and I walk over to the nightstand to answer. I glance at the screen; it’s Jackson. I thought he was in federal custody.

“What do you want?” I say, my voice cracking.

“Just thought you’d like to know that the charges against me have been dropped.”

This must be a joke, a trick on his part. “What are you talking about?”

He laughs. “They had to drop the perjury charges. The doctor who was going to testify about your little trip to the sanatorium all those years ago died. A pity. And that recording you made of me. Inadmissible. My lawyers made mincemeat of the charges. So you see, I’m a free man. And I fully intend to pursue full custody. I don’t care how long it takes, I will prove that those kids belong with me.”

“You will never get those children. Do you hear me? They hate you. They know what you did to me. How can you think they’d ever want to be with you again?”

He laughs again. “I’m sure I can convince them that you lied. You continue to underestimate me, my dear. We could have had it all, but you just had to screw me over. Now you’re going to lose everything. Have a safe flight. Enjoy them while you can. I think we both know who’s better at winning.”

My hands are shaking and I stare at the phone, dumbfounded. A surge of energy flows through me. “It’s over, Jackson. You can’t control me any longer. You’ve already lost.” And I disconnect.