An hour later, I was back in the pediatric ward, holding Rowan against my chest.

He was sleeping soundly, his tiny chest rising and falling against my collarbone.

The IV line had been removed from his arm, leaving only a small piece of blue tape over his skin.

I pressed my lips to his warm forehead, smelling the faint scent of baby lotion.

We still had a long legal battle ahead of us, and Landon’s family would not disappear easily.

But as I looked out the hospital window at the Charlotte skyline, I knew the worst of the storm had passed.

Rowan was safe, he was mine, and I was never going to let him go.