I looked away from him, focusing on the small white blanket wrapping Maisie.

“Get out,” I said.

I heard their footsteps fade down the corridor, accompanied by the heavy boots of the guards.

The room fell quiet, save for the hum of the neonatal monitor.

My father walked over to the side of my bed and placed his hand over mine.

His palm was warm and dry, a rare gesture of comfort.

“Are you alright, Evelyn?” he asked.

“I want to go home,” I said. “To the estate.”

“The car is waiting downstairs,” he said. “The doctors have cleared you and the baby for discharge.”

Clara Vance closed her briefcase with a sharp click.

“I will have the rest of your personal belongings moved from the townhouse tonight,” she said.

“Thank you, Clara,” I said.

An hour later, I was in the back of my father’s armored sedan.

Maisie was strapped into her car seat beside me, sleeping soundly through the vibration of the engine.

The rain smeared the yellow streetlights of Philadelphia as we drove north, away from the hospital and my old life.