In a low, steady voice, he said, “Get your hands off my daughter.”

Lena froze. The color drained from her face. “Your… daughter?”

In that instant, everything shifted.

She stared at my father as if the ground had vanished beneath her. My father, Robert Carter, stepped further into the room, his presence alone making the air feel heavier.

Robert Carter wasn’t only my father—he was a man whose name commanded respect, influence, and zero tolerance for injustice.

“I asked you to leave my daughter alone,” he repeated, his tone calm but unmistakably dangerous.

Security arrived moments later. Lena tried to protest, her confidence gone. “I—I didn’t know she was your daughter. This is a private matter. Daniel loves me—”

My father cut her off with a sharp look. “You assaulted a pregnant woman in a hospital. That stopped being private the moment you laid a hand on her.”

The nurses escorted Lena out as she continued protesting, her heels clicking frantically down the hallway. I watched her disappear, my hands shaking. Tears finally spilled over, and my father hurried to my side, gently taking my hand.

“I’m here,” he said softly. “You’re safe now.”