“If you attempt to serve unauthorized papers to a victim of domestic abuse in a restricted medical unit again, I will personally arrest you for obstruction.”

Vance stared at Harris for a long moment, then slowly lowered his briefcase.

“My clients will not be pleased with this treatment,” Vance said.

“Then your clients should have stayed in the country,” Sarah retorted.

Vance turned on his heel and walked back down the corridor, his expensive shoes squeaking against the polished floor.

I sank into the vinyl armchair beside Rowan’s bed, my legs completely giving out.

“They are going to try to take him,” I whispered, staring at my hands. “They have so much money.”

“They cannot take him from a hospital while a police guard is stationed at the door,” Harris said.

He pulled out his department-issued cell phone and tapped the screen.

“It is time we spoke directly to the father,” Harris said.

He looked at me, his eyes gentle but serious.

“Do I have your permission to use your phone to patch him in, or should I call from my official line?”