The IV line in the back of my hand pulled taut, a dull pinch of pain reminding me of where I was.

“What are you doing here, Brielle?” I asked, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t wake my daughter sleeping in the bassinet nearby.

Brielle flinched, stepping back toward the shadow of the door.

She looked smaller than she had in the photographs Naomi showed me.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she held her left hand against her chest as if trying to hide the diamond.

“I didn’t know,” she said, her voice shaking.

“You didn’t know he was married?” I asked.

“I knew he was married, but he told me it was over,” she whispered.

She took a slow step closer to the bed, her boots squeaking on the linoleum.

“He told me you were a low-level supply clerk who had abandoned him.”

I let out a dry, sharp breath.

“An active-duty Colonel,” I said. “And the mother of his child.”

Brielle swallowed hard, looking down at the floor.

“He said you were unstable and that you used your military status to bully him.”