He strode over to me, his expensive leather shoes clicking on the linoleum.

“Who is that?” Ethan asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“It’s Brenner,” I said, covering the mouthpiece with my palm. “He bought Mary’s debt. He filed a neglect report. He’s trying to take Lauren.”

Ethan’s face went entirely pale, then hardened into something like carved stone.

He reached out and took the phone from my hand.

“Brenner,” Ethan said into the receiver.

I stood close enough to hear the tinny rattle of Brenner’s voice responding.

“Ah, the big man himself,” Brenner said. “The Chicago prince.”

“If you come near my daughter, I will bury you,” Ethan said.

His voice was not loud, but it had a weight that made the air in the hallway feel thin.

“You don’t have custody, Caldwell,” Brenner said. “On paper, you don’t even exist to her.”

“I am her father,” Ethan said.

“The state doesn’t care about blood when there is an active neglect investigation and a mountain of unpaid bills,” Brenner said. “The hospital has to release her to a state-designated guardian if the mother is brain-dead.”