And I was not about to let him disappear into the arms of strangers.
The nurse tried to intervene, gently at first, then with more urgency when she realized I wasn’t backing down. “Ma’am, please,” she said, her hand lightly gripping my arm. “They have legal custody. Everything has been verified.”
I laughed—a short, sharp sound that didn’t feel like it belonged to me. “That’s impossible,” I snapped. “I’m her sister. I’m her next of kin. There’s no scenario where she gives her child to… to—” I gestured vaguely, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence.
The tallest of the men shifted slightly, adjusting the way he held the baby with a care that, even then, I didn’t want to acknowledge. He wasn’t defensive. He didn’t raise his voice. If anything, he looked tired in a way I couldn’t quite place, like he had been carrying something heavy for a very long time.
“She knew you’d say that,” he said quietly.
There was no accusation in his tone. Just certainty.
Before I could respond, he reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope, thick and creased at the edges, as if it had been handled more than once.
