Chapter 1 - Ten Minutes Old
My son was ten minutes old when the doctor started crying.
Then my ex-husband walked into the delivery room and said, “Don’t give her the baby.”
For a second, nobody moved.
The doctor stood beside my bed, holding the little bundle I had spent nine months protecting.
Julian stood in the doorway in a navy suit that cost more than three months of my rent.
I was still bleeding, still shaking, still trying to understand why the man who delivered my son looked as though someone had opened an old wound.
“Give him to me,” I said.
Julian smiled.
“Vivian, let’s not make this ugly.”
The nurse beside me looked up sharply.
“Sir, you need to leave.”
“I’m his father.”
“And she’s my patient.”
Her name was Rosa.
Until that moment, she was a stranger.
Then she became the first person in months who stood between me and something cruel.
The doctor lowered my son into my arms.
His name tag read DR. GABRIEL MERCER.
My baby made a small, irritated sound, opened his mouth, and settled against my chest.
I wrapped both arms around him.
Julian stepped closer.
Rosa moved into his path.
“I said leave.”
He held up a brown envelope.
“My attorney prepared the paperwork.”
“What paperwork?” I asked.
“A temporary care agreement.”
I laughed once.
It hurt everywhere.
“You mean custody.”
“You drove yourself here in labor.”
“Because you canceled my insurance and emptied our account.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“I’m listening just fine.”
Dr. Mercer had not taken his eyes off Julian.
Something changed in his face.
Recognition.
Fear.
Then a kind of anger so quiet it made the room feel smaller.
“Your mother,” he said.
Julian glanced at him.
“What?”
“Is her name Eleanor?”
Julian’s smile faded.
“Yes.”
The doctor swallowed.
“And your father?”
“Robert Vance.”
Dr. Mercer gripped the bed rail.
I looked from one man to the other.
“What is happening?”
Before the doctor answered, Julian’s phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen, then turned it away.
Too late.
I saw the message.
FROM MOM:
Did she sign before the doctor recognized him?
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Rosa,” I whispered.
She leaned closer.
“Don’t let anyone take my son.”
Julian reached for his phone.
Dr. Mercer stepped between us.
“Call security.”
Julian looked at him with open contempt.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
The doctor’s eyes filled again.
May you like
“Yes,” he said.
“For the first time in thirty-eight years, I think I do.”
