The door swung open slowly, the hinges giving a dry, metallic scrape.

It wasn’t Josephine.

A tall man in a grey suit stood in the doorway, holding a manila envelope.

“Grace Sullivan?” he asked, his voice echoing in the small hospital room.

“Yes,” I said, my hand tightening on the toxicology report.

“You’ve been served,” he said.

He stepped forward, dropped the envelope onto the bedside table, and walked out without another word.

Leo picked up the envelope and tore it open.

His hands shook slightly as he pulled out the document.

“It’s the emergency custody hearing,” Leo said, his voice flat.

“When?” I asked.

“Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock,” he said. “Judge Archer’s chambers.”

Melanie shrank back against the wall, her eyes wide.

“She’s going to tell them you’re unstable, Grace,” Melanie whispered.

“Get out, Melanie,” Leo said, not looking at her.

“Leo, please—”

“Get out,” he repeated, louder this time.

Melanie grabbed her purse and slipped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I could hear the distant beep of the monitors from the neonatal unit down the hall.