Part 2
Clara watched his hand.
He had not taken the ring off during their separation. She had noticed in every photograph Leah had quietly sent from the hospital, every image of him carrying the baby through hallways Clara had been told she could not enter.
“Give her to me,” Clara said.
Adrian’s jaw moved.
“You have supervised access tomorrow.”
“I am her mother.”
“And I am her father.”
“I did not say you weren’t.”
“You left the hospital.”
“I was transferred.”
“You signed the discharge request.”
“I signed a form Evelyn placed in front of me while I was medicated.”
Evelyn’s tone sharpened. “You were fully aware of what you signed.”
Clara looked at her. “You told me it was consent for treatment.”
“It was consent for treatment.”
“And temporary guardianship.”
“Your physician recommended rest.”
“My physician recommended a mother-and-baby unit. You sent me to a private clinic that did not allow infants.”
Adrian looked at his mother.
Evelyn did not look back.
“The specialist said separation was necessary,” she said.
“Which specialist?” Clara asked.
“Dr. Abbot.”
“He never examined me.”
“He reviewed your records.”
“He reviewed records you sent him.”
Adrian spoke carefully. “Dr. Abbot is one of the best perinatal psychiatrists in the state.”
“He is also on the Vale Foundation’s medical advisory council.”
“That does not make him dishonest.”
“No. But it makes your mother his largest donor.”
Evelyn drew herself taller. “This accusation is grotesque.”
Leah’s grip tightened on the leather folder.
Clara saw it.
“So is arranging a naming ceremony while a baby’s mother is kept away by papers she did not understand.”
“You understood enough to send Adrian messages saying you did not want to see the child.”
“I did not send them.”
Adrian’s voice lost some of its control. “They came from your phone.”
“My phone was in Evelyn’s safe.”
The room became still again.
Adrian looked at Evelyn.
She said, “Clara asked me to secure her belongings before she entered treatment.”
“I asked you to bring them to me.”
“You were not permitted to have a phone during the initial stabilization period.”
“Then how did I send messages?”
Evelyn paused.
Clara could see Adrian trying to resist the question. His eyes moved once toward the baby and back to his mother.
“The clinic gave you supervised access,” Evelyn said.
“No, it didn’t.”
“You used the patient office.”
“There was no patient office.”
Leah made a small sound, hardly more than a breath.
Evelyn turned. “Do you have something to contribute?”
Leah’s face went pale. “No.”
Clara looked at the folder in Leah’s hands.
“What are you holding?”
“Ceremony documents.”
“The original card?”
Leah glanced at Evelyn.
Clara stepped toward her.
Adrian moved instinctively, turning his body so the baby remained farther away. Clara stopped at once.
“I’m not trying to take her from you,” she said.
His expression tightened with shame, but he did not move back.
Leah opened the folder.
Inside were several printed pages, a guest list, a schedule, and a second white card.
Clara saw the name before Leah covered it with her hand.
Rose Margaret Vale.
The name Clara and Adrian had chosen together six months earlier.
Adrian saw it too.
“What is that?”
Leah looked at Evelyn.
“Answer him,” Clara said.
Evelyn’s voice became quiet. “A preliminary version.”
Adrian stared at the card. “Why was it changed?”
“You said Clara had withdrawn from the decision.”
“I said she would not answer me.”
“She had sent the message refusing Rose.”
Clara turned to him. “Show me.”
He shifted the baby into the crook of one arm and took his phone from his pocket. His movements were slow, deliberate. He found the message and held the screen toward her.
Do not call her Rose. I don’t want any part of your family’s version of motherhood. Choose whatever name will make Evelyn happy.
Clara read it twice.
The words were cruel in a way she recognized. They had been built from things she had actually said in arguments, rearranged just enough to sound possible.
“I didn’t write that.”
“There are twelve messages.”
“I didn’t write any of them.”
“You called me once.”
“No. I answered once. Evelyn stood beside the clinic nurse and told me you would lose the foundation vote if I upset you before the merger announcement.”
Adrian’s brows drew together. “What merger announcement?”
Evelyn said, “This has gone far enough.”
Martin gave a dry, exhausted laugh.
Everyone looked at him.
He rubbed one hand over his mouth. “It went too far before the child was born.”
Evelyn’s eyes hardened. “Martin.”
“No.”
It was the first firm word he had spoken.
He walked toward the ceremony table and picked up the printed name card. His thumb rested over the silver border.
“I drafted the temporary guardianship,” he said.
Adrian looked at him. “You told me Clara’s attorney reviewed it.”
“I said independent counsel was available.”
“You said she had counsel.”
“I should not have.”
Clara felt the room tilt, though she was standing still.
Martin looked at her. “I am sorry.”
“Did you see me sign it?”
He did not answer.
“Martin.”
“No.”
Adrian’s free hand closed around his phone. “You notarized it.”
“Yes.”
“You notarized her signature without witnessing it?”
“Evelyn brought it to me with the clinic’s witness form attached.”
“What clinic witness?” Clara asked.
Martin looked toward Leah.
Leah’s face changed.
“I typed the form,” she whispered.
Evelyn said her name in warning.
Leah put the folder on the table.
“I typed what Mrs. Vale dictated,” she said. “I thought it was a standard witness statement.”
“Who signed it?” Adrian asked.
Leah swallowed. “No one.”
Martin closed his eyes.
Clara looked at Evelyn. “You forged it.”
“I completed emergency paperwork after your medical team said you were incapable of safely caring for an infant.”
“You forged it.”
“I protected the child.”
“You took her.”
“I kept her from being placed in an unstable environment.”
May you like
Clara’s hands began trembling again.
Adrian saw and drew the baby closer, not away from Clara this time but away from the rising sound of Evelyn’s voice.
