Ethan stepped between me and the administrator.

“I am Ethan Caldwell,” he said. “That child is my daughter.”

Ms. Vance looked at him, her expression unchanging.

“Mr. Caldwell, we have no record of paternity on file,” she said. “The mother is the sole legal guardian, and she is currently in critical condition.”

“I am the father,” Ethan repeated, his voice rising.

“The mother’s accounts are heavily delinquent,” Ms. Vance said, looking at her clipboard. “And we have a formal petition alleging neglect and abandonment filed by a primary creditor.”

“That creditor is a criminal,” I said, stepping forward.

“That is for the court to decide,” Ms. Vance said. “Right now, the child must be placed in temporary administrative custody until a caseworker arrives.”

She looked past Ethan, toward the pediatric waiting room down the hall.

“Where is the girl?” she asked.

Ethan did not move.

He stood like a wall between her and the waiting room door.

“She is not going anywhere with you,” Ethan said.

“Mr. Caldwell, do not make this a security matter,” Ms. Vance said.

One of the guards placed his hand on his belt, near his holster.