Rhona is secretly communicating with a discreet welfare liaison officer connected to the local family services unit, a person she has quietly relied on in the past whenever complicated custody or safeguarding issues arise, and she reaches out to them because she believes they are the only one who can discreetly track the movements of the father and daughter without alerting anyone who might interfere or misinterpret her intentions, and although she tells nobody about this contact, her motive is not malicious but born out of a conflicted blend of fear, guilt, and desperate maternal instinct, for Rhona genuinely believes that the pair may be in emotional or physical danger due to decisions spiraling from past conflicts, and she feels a moral responsibility to make sure they are safe even if she is no longer directly part of their lives, and even though she knows her involvement could cause tension or accusations of meddling, she convinces herself that sharing the information she has—small details she has pieced together from overheard conversations, unusual behavior, and a lingering sense that something has gone wrong—is the only way to prevent a situation from escalating into tragedy, because Rhona has lived through enough chaos to recognize the early warning signs when a parent becomes too desperate, too fearful, or too isolated, and her past experiences with custody battles, hidden resentments, and emotional breakdowns haunt her to the point that staying silent feels more dangerous than taking the risk of being exposed, so she chooses instead to quietly supply the liaison officer with updates about what she has seen and what she suspects, trusting that the officer’s authority and subtle investigative skills will allow them to check on the father and daughter without causing panic or revealing her involvement, and deep inside Rhona hopes that if the pair are indeed safe, then her conscience will settle and she can move on, but if they are not, she wants to know that she at least tried to intervene before something irreversible happened, because the truth is that Rhona’s motive comes from a place of wounded compassion shaped by her own painful history as a mother who has fought tirelessly for her children, made mistakes, lost battles, and suffered through choices that changed her forever, and now when she senses danger in another family, especially involving a vulnerable child, she cannot suppress the instinct to act, even if it means crossing boundaries or being drawn back into conflicts she swore she would avoid, and as she continues sending information to the liaison officer—carefully worded messages, sightings, and her interpretations of the father’s distressed behavior—she tells herself that she is doing the right thing, that protecting the innocent is worth the personal risk, and that if the father eventually learns what she has done, he will one day understand that it came not from malice but from an overwhelming urge to ensure the safety of someone who has already endured too much uncertainty, and while Rhona fears the fallout if her role is exposed, she also knows she could never forgive herself if she ignored her instincts and tragedy struck, so her choice to share this information becomes a quiet burden she carries alone, driven by empathy, trauma, and a fierce belief that sometimes doing the right thing means stepping into the shadows and acting on truths others refuse to see.