She wore a long cashmere coat, her silver hair perfectly styled despite the wind.

“Get the child, Arthur,” Margaret said, her voice flat and commanding.

I stepped directly in front of the crib, locking my knees so they wouldn’t shake.

“Touch him, and I will kill you,” I said.

Margaret stepped into the living room, her expensive leather boots clicking on the hardwood floor.

“Don’t be dramatic, Claire,” she said, looking around the dark cabin with disgust. “You have no legal right to this boy.”

“He is my son,” I said. “My biological child.”

Margaret waved her hand dismissively. “An unverified claim from a rogue clinic director’s son.”

Julian stepped out from the shadows near the hallway.

“The medical records aren’t just claims, Mrs. Lawson,” Julian said, holding up a thick manila folder. “The state licensing board already has the digital copies.”

Ethan shrank back toward the kitchen counter, his face pale.

“Mother, we need to leave,” Ethan whispered. “This is going too far.”

“Be quiet, Ethan,” Margaret snapped, not looking at him. “Arthur, take the baby.”

Arthur took a step toward me.