Penelope's POV

The parking lot at Serenity Hills is quiet when we pull in. Timothy cuts the engine and sits there for a minute, staring at the building.

"You okay?" I ask.

"No," he says, "but let's do it anyway."

We walk to the entrance together. His hand finds mine and squeezes tight. The lobby is all white walls and fake plants, trying too hard to look peaceful.

"We're here to see Joyce Blackthorn," Timothy tells the receptionist.

The woman types on her computer. "I don't see any approved ...