Bennett approached my bed. He did not spare even a glance for the tiny creature sleeping in the clear plastic bassinet beside me. Our daughter breathed softly, only minutes old. Instead, Bennett looked directly at me with a mixture of disgust and forced pity.
He dropped papers on my abdomen, right on top of the thin hospital blanket.
“Sign. You finally got what you wanted. A child to chain me. But it is over. Sign and be done.”
I stared at him, unable to form sound. Tears blurred the edges of my vision. My daughter had been alive for eight minutes and I was already being told I would lose her.
I heard Vivienne’s voice like venom.
“This girl was never one of us. Bennett did a charitable act marrying you. You were born in struggle with no pedigree or connections. An orphan with nothing. Now that the Armitage name has a blood heir, you are irrelevant.”
Two private security guards in black suits waited at the door. They were poised like predators. I understood: if I resisted, they would drag me out.
My chest tightened with terror. “Please. I just gave birth. I need time. I need to hold her.” My voice cracked.