His voice was low and smooth, the exact tone he used when he wanted to soothe me into submission.

I pressed the nurse call button beneath my pillow.

Nothing happened.

“I unplugged the terminal in the hallway,” Nathan said.

He walked toward the bassinet where Amelia slept.

“Get away from her,” I said.

My voice was hoarse, but it did not shake.

He stopped and looked down at the baby.

“She has my nose,” he murmured.

He reached out a finger to touch her cheek.

“Don’t touch her,” I said.

Nathan pulled his hand back and looked at me.

His eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth.

“We need to talk,” he said.

He pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket.

“You have always been stubborn about the Crane trust,” he said.

He laid the paper on my bedside table.

“Sloane and I are moving to Chicago,” he said.

“But we need the liquidation of the penthouse to clear our initial expenses.”

“Sign this release, and I will sign away my parental rights.”

I looked at the document.