Eleanor stepped closer to the bed, the heavy scent of her perfume making me feel nauseous.

“You left us for this, Ethan?” she asked, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “A girl from the warehouse docks? Look at her.”

“She is the mother of my children,” Ethan said.

“She is a liability,” Eleanor said. “And those children belong in a proper home. Under our supervision.”

She reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a folded document.

“Sign the transfer waiver, Ethan,” she said. “If you do, I will ensure Hannah’s medical bills are paid in full. She can leave Chicago with a generous stipend.”

“No,” I whispered. “Don’t do it, Ethan.”

Ethan did not even look at the paper.

“Take your money and get out,” Ethan said.

“If you refuse, we will tie this up in court for years,” Eleanor said. “You know your father’s legal team. By the time you get a custody hearing, the children will be grown.”

The cold reality of her words settled over the room like ice.

The door opened again, and a nurse stuck her head in, her face pale.