Ryan was sitting in the plastic chair next to the bed, dressed in a crisp grey wool coat that smelled of expensive cologne and the outdoor cold.

He looked clean, polished, and entirely out of place in the sterile room.

“You’re awake,” he said, standing up and stepping closer to the bed.

He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I pulled away, my skin crawling at his touch.

“Where is Ethan?” my voice was a dry, raspy whisper.

“The baby is fine, Emma,” Ryan said, his tone instantly shifting into his familiar, commanding executive register.

“He’s in the nursery downstairs.”

“My father brought him in, but I’ve already told the nursing staff that I am making the decisions here.”

“I am having Ethan transferred to a private clinic in Cherry Creek where my mother has connections.”

He adjusted his watch, not looking at my eyes.

“And you need rest, so I’ve told the doctor we are limiting visitors.”

“That means no more drama from my father, and your sister doesn’t need to fly in.”

I stared at him, the fog in my mind clearing under a sudden spike of adrenaline.