Of course he did.
White roses in a glass vase large enough to require two hands. A hospital volunteer wheeled them in first, smiling uncertainly. Ryan followed in a charcoal overcoat, freshly shaved, hair perfect, eyes tired in the way powerful men learn to make useful.
Daniel stood immediately.
Eli was by the window holding a paper cup of coffee.
Priya sat in the chair beside my bed, reviewing documents.
Ryan looked at the room and understood he had miscalculated.
“Claire,” he said carefully. “Can we have a minute alone?”
“No,” Priya said.
His eyes cut to her. “And you are?”
“Priya Shah. Claire’s counsel.”
The word counsel struck him harder than the paternity test.
He looked at me.
“You hired a lawyer?”
“You requested a paternity test before asking how I was.”
“That was a mistake.”
The room waited.
Ryan swallowed.
“I should not have done that.”
It sounded almost like an apology.
Almost.
“But you have to understand what it looked like.”
There it was.
The apology folding itself into accusation before it could stand upright.
Daniel muttered, “Unbelievable.”
Ryan ignored him.
“You called another man in the middle of the night.”
“I called the man who answered.”
Ryan’s face tightened.
“I was on a plane.”
“No,” I said. “You were unreachable because you turned off your phone after I begged you not to leave.”
“I had responsibilities.”
“So did you.”
The words came from Eli.
Ryan turned slowly.
I expected him to snap. Instead, he smiled.
It was worse.
“Mr. Dawson. I appreciate your assistance, but you can stop auditioning for sainthood.”
Eli looked at him over the coffee cup.
“I’m not auditioning. I’m still here because she asked me to be.”
“She is vulnerable.”
“Yes,” Eli said. “That’s why people who care about her should be careful with their words.”
Ryan’s jaw flexed.
Priya stood.
“Mr. Mercer, Claire will not be discharging to the marital residence at this time. Temporary arrangements are being made. Any custody or visitation discussion will occur through counsel after she and the baby are medically cleared.”
Ryan stared at me.
“You’re taking my daughter away?”
“My daughter is two days old,” I said. “And you have spent most of her life punishing me for who witnessed her birth.”
“That’s not fair.”
