“You ignored my calls for twelve hours while I bled out on the bathroom floor,” I said.

“We can discuss your version of events later,” Ryan said, reaching for the bassinet.

Thomas stepped in front of him, his large hand gripping Ryan’s shoulder with a firm, unyielding pressure.

“Don’t touch him,” Thomas said.

Ryan flinched, staring at his father’s hand on his expensive suit.

“Get your hands off me, old man,” Ryan spat. “You have no legal right to be in this room, let alone in my life.”

“I have more right than you do,” Thomas said. “I’m the one who kept your wife alive until the ambulance arrived while you were popping champagne.”

The door behind Ryan opened wider, hitting the plastic wall guard with a sharp click.

“And I have a legal right to be here,” a sharp voice said from the threshold.

I looked up, my heart leaping into my throat.

Laura stood in the doorway.

She looked exhausted, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, carrying a large carry-on bag with a ripped strap.