In the second bassinet from the door lay a tiny bundle wrapped in a pink blanket.

She had a tuft of dark hair and tiny, perfect fingers that twitched in her sleep.

Evelyn.

I reached out, my hand trembling as I touched the soft fabric of her blanket.

“She looks just like your mother,” General Vale said softly from the doorway.

“She does,” I whispered, a single tear slipping down my cheek.

“We will protect her, Tessa,” Naomi said, standing beside me. “I will file the custody motion first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you,” I said, keeping my eyes on my daughter.

After a few minutes, the nurse gently insisted I return to my room to rest.

The walk back felt longer, the physical toll of the C-section finally catching up to me.

By the time I climbed back into the hospital bed, my gown was damp with sweat and my muscles were shaking.

Naomi helped me adjust the pillows while General Vale stood by the window, looking out at the darkened parking lot below.