Inside, a tiny baby girl lay on her stomach, her back rising and falling.

She had a patch of dark hair, just like my husband, the real Tyler.

My throat tightened, and tears welled in my eyes.

“She’s doing wonderful,” the nurse whispered.

“Her oxygen levels are perfect.”

I reached through the small circular opening in the plastic wall.

I touched her tiny hand.

Her fingers instantly curled around my pinky.

“Hi, sweetie,” I whispered.

“I’m here.”

She didn’t wake, but her grip was surprisingly strong.

“I promise you,” I whispered.

“They won’t touch you.”

“Mrs. Callahan?” a voice called out quietly.

I turned to see Adelaide walking into the NICU.

She looked tense, her phone held tightly in her hand.

“What happened?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

“The board meeting just started,” Adelaide said.

“Victoria’s lawyers are there.”

“What are they doing?” I asked.

“They are challenging your daughter’s legitimacy,” Adelaide said.

“They claim the DNA test hasn’t been verified by a court.”

“It was verified by the FBI,” I said, my voice rising.

“I know,” Adelaide said.