Now, he was going to lose everything.

We arrived at St. Catherine’s Medical Center twenty minutes later.

The hospital smelled of floor wax and antiseptic.

We took the elevator to the pediatric wing.

When I pushed open the door to Ethan’s room, the sight made my heart swell.

My sister, Laura, was sitting in the glider chair, rocking my baby boy.

Ethan was wrapped in a blue receiving blanket, his tiny fist pressed against his cheek.

“How did it go?” Laura asked, her eyes wide with anxiety.

“We won,” I said, my voice cracking.

Laura let out a breath she seemed to have been holding for days.

“Oh, thank thank God,” she whispered.

I walked over and took Ethan from her arms.

He was warm and heavy, his breathing shallow and even.

I sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, holding him close to my chest.

“The judge denied their petition,” Thomas told Laura, hanging his coat on the back of the door.

“He cited neglect and coercive control,” Thomas added.

Laura shook her head, a fierce look of triumph on her face.