For three months, she’d been blocking him. Mark, her ex, had cycled through seven different numbers, each one greeted by her silent digital wall. On iPhone, blocking was a clean, surgical cut. The caller heard a single ring, then the void. No log. No evidence. Just peace.

Then a name that made her blood turn to slurry:

Ellie’s thumb froze. She hadn’t blocked her mother. Had she? No. They’d had a fight about the wedding—Mark’s wedding, the one he’d called off—but blocking was for enemies, not family.