“I guess so? I mean yes. My mom has. And my sister said I should call you in case, I don’t know, I could be in trouble too?”

“You have a smart sister,” Mr. Lowe says, and I’m glad we’re on the phone so he can’t see me roll my eyes so hard I almost sprain them. “Given the nature of the allegations against your mother, and potentially your father, you absolutely need to have your own separate counsel.” This is the second time I’ve heard the word separate and it still makes me uncomfortable. A surge of loneliness bubbles up in the back of my throat, and I swallow it down. I think of the corner of my mom’s robe hanging out of the FBI car, waving goodbye to our old life.

“I…I…This is all a little overwhelming. Am I…I mean, if I didn’t know anything, can I still be in trouble?” I ask. “I mean, I didn’t know. I only knew—”

“Stop!” he says sharply, and then catches himself. “Chloe, I don’t want to hear anything about what you did or did not know, do you understand?”

“Yes,” I say, though I’m not sure I do.

“There’ll be time to iron that all out later. In some cases, it’s better for lawyers to know less, not more. How about we set up an in-person meeting for later today? I’ll come to you, since I imagine you can’t leave your house.”

“No, the paparazzi are here. Also, I’m not sure how I’ll pay you. I have a trust fund, but—”

“We can worry about that part later too. Until I get there with a retainer agreement, I only need you to do one thing. Can you do one thing for me, Chloe?” He’s talking to me like I’m a little kid, as if he too thinks I’m clearly the stupidest person in America. I’d be annoyed except for the fact that I want the hand-holding. I’m terrified.

“Okay.”

“Don’t talk to anyone—not your mom or your dad or even your sister—about the case or anything that’s happened. Not a single word.”

“I can’t talk to my family?” I glance at the picture of the four of us in Bora-Bora that sits on my dad’s desk. Isla’s in the middle, grinning without front teeth and wearing bright orange wonder wings. I’m next to her, holding up a hairy coconut and drinking out of a giant straw. My mom, in a string bikini, stands behind us, my dad’s arm around her shoulders, his abs more chiseled than they are now.

We look so happy. A perfect family.