“We need to take her to the neonatal unit for observation, just to make sure her vitals are stable after the high blood pressure,” the nurse said gently.

I nodded, my eyes never leaving her face. “Keep her safe.”

An hour later, I was wheeled into a dim recovery room.

The numbness in my legs was beginning to fade, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache across my abdomen.

The door opened quietly, and Naomi Pierce stepped inside, her dark suit slightly rumpled from the long hours.

“How is she?” Naomi asked, standing close to my bedside.

“She’s in the nursery,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “She’s beautiful, Naomi. But tell me about the house.”

Naomi pulled up a plastic chair and sat down, her face grim.

“Grant signed a hard-money loan using a forged power of attorney,” she said, opening a folder on her lap.

“How much?”

“Two million dollars,” Naomi replied. “The lender is a private firm that specializes in high-interest, short-term debt. He took the cash and immediately wired it to an offshore account.”

“And the foreclosure?”