My breath caught in my throat.

“No,” I whispered.

The word was small, but it felt like it tore through my chest.

“Where is my son?” I asked, my voice rising. “Where is Ethan?”

“He is in the neonatal intensive care unit,” the lawyer said. “And security has been instructed to bar your access.”

“You cannot do this,” I screamed, trying to sit up.

The pain in my abdomen flared, a sharp, burning sensation that made my vision blur.

“Emma, stay down,” Laura begged, holding me back. “Don’t tear your stitches.”

“They are taking my baby, Laura!” I cried, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes.

“They haven’t taken him yet,” Victoria said, her eyes scanning the documents rapidly. “This is an emergency petition. It was filed ex parte.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, my chest heaving.

“It means they did it without us there,” Victoria said, her pen already scratching notes on the margins of the papers. “They lied to a judge in chambers.”

She looked up at the lawyers.

“This order is highly irregular,” Victoria said. “It states the evaluation must be done by an independent court-appointed psychiatrist, not Dr. Harrison.”