"Meaning?"
"Meaning he's postponed the hearing pending a full safety evaluation. We've got thirty days."
Thirty days. Not perfect, but breathing room. Izzy sagged against the table.
"This isn't over," Rachel continued. "But now we have time to build our case properly. Document everything. Every threat, every contact, every piece of evidence showing he's being paid to harass you."
"Thank you," Izzy managed around the lump in her throat.
"Family helps family," Rachel said simply. "Get some rest. We'll strategize after you get that mess in Hope Landing cleared up."
After she disconnected, Izzy stood there trying to process the reprieve. Thirty days to prove Andrew was a pawn. Thirty days to solve this whole conspiracy.
"Chinese or pizza?" Cory asked.
She blinked at the subject change. "What?"
"Victory celebration. We just won round one." He pulled up a delivery app. "So Chinese or pizza?"
"Thai," she said, surprising herself. "From that place on Third Street."
An hour later, they sat surrounded by takeout containers, the TV on but ignored. Izzy picked at her pad Thai, appetite still mostly.
"We tackle Reed tomorrow," Cory said between bites of curry. "When we're fresh."
"I'm fresh now."
"You're exhausted and running on adrenaline." He pointed his chopsticks at her. "Reed's been doing this for years. He'll smell desperation a mile away. We need to be sharp, controlled."
She hated that he was right. "Fine. Tomorrow."
"Good. Now pick a movie."
"What?"
"Distraction. Doctor's orders." He grabbed the remote. "What's your comfort watch?"
They spent ten minutes arguing about movies—he liked classics, she preferred action, neither would compromise on rom-coms. Finally, they settled onThe Princess Bride, which somehow satisfied both requirements.
"Inconceivable." they said in unison during the clifftop scene, then looked at each other and laughed. It felt good, normal. Like they were just two people watching a movie, not hiding from assassins and custody battles.
Her phone buzzed halfway through. A text from Wilson.
Check your email. Secure link.
She opened it to find a video message. Chantal appeared on screen, beaming in Christmas pajamas that were two sizes too big.
"Hi Mommy. Abuela and I are having fun. Mr. Wilson taught me to tie special knots and Abuela's teaching me to make tamales. I miss you but I'm being very brave. Are my angel wings okay? The pageant's in six sleeps. I've been practicing my song. Love you."
The video ended. Izzy stared at the black screen, tears burning her eyes.
"Six days," she whispered.
"We'll solve this?—"
"No." She stood abruptly, energy crackling through her again. "We need to move NOW. My baby's counting days, Cory. She's six years old and counting days until she can come home."
"Izzy—"
