Ryan felt a wave of nausea. "She was spying on my family. In our own home."
"It gets worse," Vance continued, opening the manila folder to reveal photocopies of the documents found in the locked drawer beneath the nursery wardrobe. "The folder contained a pre-drafted petition for emergency custody of Oliver, signed by a family court judge's former associate. There were also forged medical records claiming Mrs. Whitmore had a history of severe postpartum psychosis and self-harm."
Maya gasped, tears spilling over her dark lashes. "I never... I suffered from mild blues after he was born, but I was seeing a therapist! Evelyn recommended that therapist..."
"And that therapist is likely on your mother's payroll," Vance said, looking directly at Ryan. "Mr. Whitmore, this wasn't an isolated argument that got out of hand. This was a calculated, long-term operation designed to strip your wife of her parental rights and secure sole custody of your son for Evelyn."
"Where is the inhaler?" Ryan asked, his voice dead and cold. "Did you find Oliver's emergency inhaler?"
Vance shook his head slowly. "Not on her person, and not in the nursery. But our forensics team is going over the rain gutter outside the nursery window. We suspect she tossed it right before you entered the house to provoke a severe medical crisis that would make Maya look negligent."