A nurse smiled at me as she adjusted his IV line.

“He’s had a good afternoon, Mrs. Bellamy,” she said softly. “His oxygen saturation is holding steady.”

“Thank God,” I whispered, reaching through the plastic portal to gently touch his hand.

His tiny fingers curled around my pinky finger, holding on with surprising strength.

“I’m here, sweetie,” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Arthur stood behind me, a steady, silent presence.

“You’re a strong mother, Marissa,” he said quietly.

“I have to be,” I said. “For him.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, the vibration startling me.

I pulled it out, expecting a call from my lawyer.

Instead, the screen displayed an unknown number from a South Carolina area code.

My chest tightened.

I stepped away from the incubator and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I said.

“Marissa,” a voice said, cold and sharp.

It was Patricia.

“Patricia,” I said, my voice hardening. “Do not call me.”

“You need to listen to me very carefully,” Patricia said, her tone dripping with venom. “You are making a huge mistake.”