"You are nothing to her," I said, my voice shaking with a rage so profound it terrified me. I pointed a trembling finger down the hallway. "Get out."
"Jack, you can't be serious! You're going to take the word of a traumatized, lying child over your own wife?"
"If you are not out of this hospital in ten seconds," I whispered, stepping so close she had to crane her neck to look at me, "I will drag you out by your hair, and I will let the police sort out the rest. Get out of my sight."
Rachel stared at me. She saw the murder in my eyes. Without another word, she turned and fled down the hallway, her designer heels clicking frantically against the linoleum.
I turned back to the room. The social worker was already dialing her phone. "I'm calling the police, Mr. Reynolds," she said gently. "We need to file a formal report."