“You sneaked in here,” I said. “You stole a badge. You bypassed security.”

She glanced down at her white coat.

“The staff here are incredibly careless,” she said. “They leave everything lying around.”

She took a step toward the incubator again.

“And besides, someone has to take care of this poor child.”

“Megan is her mother,” I said, stepping between her and the incubator. “And I am her father.”

My mother laughed, a dry, rattling sound.

“Megan can barely take care of herself,” she said. “Look what happened.”

“You did this to her,” I said. “You pushed her. You caused the early labor.”

My mother waved her hand dismissively.

“That was an accident, Jake. She tripped.”

She tapped the documents under her arm.

“But the state won’t see it that way once they read these.”

I looked at the papers she was holding.

The top sheet had the hospital’s logo printed at the top.

Underneath it, I could see forged signatures.

My name and Megan’s name were written in neat, perfect cursive.

It was my mother’s handwriting, disguised to look like ours.

“What is that?” I asked.