“Yes.”
“You think police care about your little complaint?” Janice said from behind them. “You’re making yourself look unstable.”
Gabriela’s blood went cold.
There it was.
Not anger.
A plan.
She stepped silently to the peephole.
Vanessa stood closest to the door, her lipstick perfect, her face twisted with outrage. Ronald loomed behind her in a dark coat. Janice stood at his side, holding a folder against her chest.
A folder.
Gabriela’s stomach dropped.
“What’s in the folder?” she asked.
The three of them went still.
Vanessa recovered first. “Family business.”
“I’m not part of your family business anymore.”
Ronald stepped closer. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Gabriela pressed record on her phone.
“I’m recording this,” she said clearly. “You need to leave.”
Janice laughed. “Good. Record it. Record how irrational you sound.”
Then Vanessa’s voice changed.
It became soft.
Almost kind.
That frightened Gabriela more than the yelling.
“Gabby,” her mother said. “You’re tired. You’re overwhelmed. No one blames you. Being a single mother is hard. Maybe too hard.”
Gabriela stopped breathing.
Ronald continued, “We spoke to someone today.”
Gabriela’s hand went numb around the phone.
Janice opened the folder and slid one paper partly beneath the door.
Gabriela did not touch it.
“We’re willing to help,” Vanessa said. “Temporarily.”
“Help with what?” Gabriela asked.
“With Willow,” Janice said.
The apartment seemed to tilt.
From the hallway, Gabriela heard the faint creak of Willow’s bedroom door.
“Go back inside,” Gabriela called, trying to keep her voice steady.
Willow did not answer.
Vanessa sighed. “You see? She’s scared of you.”
Gabriela’s eyes burned. “She’s scared of you.”
“That’s not what the court will hear,” Janice said.
Ronald’s voice lowered. “We have statements. Concerns. Financial instability. Emotional distress. Poor judgment. A fraud accusation against your own mother. A police report that makes you look vindictive.”
Gabriela stared at the paper under the door.
At the top, she could see the words:
Petition for Emergency Temporary Guardianship.
For a moment, she could not move.
The money had not been the worst thing.
The doll had not been the worst thing.