He gently lowered the small bundle so I could see my son’s face.

Ethan’s skin was pink now, his tiny chest rising and falling beneath the blanket, his dark hair damp against his forehead.

“He’s healthy, Emma,” Thomas murmured. “The pediatricians checked him over.”

“He’s perfect.”

Tears hot and thick spilled over my temples and soaked into the hospital pillow.

“Get him out of here, Emma,” Ryan demanded, stepping to the foot of the bed.

“We are going home tomorrow, and my mother has already hired a night nurse.”

“We don’t need his charity, and we don’t need his interference.”

I looked from Ryan’s cold, handsome face to Thomas’s weathered, kind eyes.

“Thomas,” I said, my voice gaining strength.

“Yes, Emma?”

“I want you to take Ethan.”

Ryan took a sharp step forward. “What are you talking about?”

“Thomas, please keep him safe,” I said, ignoring Ryan completely.

“Keep him with you until I can get out of here.”

“I don’t want Ryan or Margaret near him.”

Thomas nodded once, a solemn vow. “I’ll take him to my place, Emma.”