Chapter 2
I stared at the man I'd married three years ago and searched for any trace of the person I thought I'd known. There was nothing.
"Get out," I said.
Ryan sighed — that long-suffering sigh he used whenever I was being "difficult."
"I know this is emotional for you. The hormones after birth—"
"Don't you dare." My voice was low but shaking. "Don't you dare blame my hormones for the fact that you stole my child and gave him to another woman."
"I didn't *steal* him." Ryan's jaw tightened. "I made a decision for the family. Sienna has been struggling for years. She had the nursery ready. She's been preparing—"
"She's been *preparing*?" The realization hit me like ice water. "How long has this been planned?"
Ryan looked away.
"How. Long."
"She found out she couldn't conceive about a year ago," he said quietly. "I couldn't just watch her suffer."
A year ago. I was four months pregnant a year ago.
The prenatal vitamins Ryan had carefully set out every morning. The nursery we'd painted together — soft yellow walls, a wooden crib he'd assembled with his own hands. The baby shower his mother had thrown for us.
All of it, a performance.
"You married me to breed a baby for your ex-girlfriend." The words sounded insane even as I said them.
"Don't be dramatic." His voice hardened. "I married you because I loved you. But things change. Sienna needs this more than you do."
I lunged for the call button, pressing it repeatedly. "I want my baby transferred back to this hospital *immediately*."
Ryan grabbed my wrist — not hard, but firmly enough. "Lily. Think carefully. I've already spoken with the hospital. Given your traumatic delivery, your blood loss, and your current emotional state, they've flagged you as high-risk for postpartum psychosis."
The room went cold.
"You told them I'm *psychotic*?"
"I told them you might need psychiatric evaluation before being discharged with a newborn." His eyes were steady. Practiced. "It's just a precaution."
This wasn't a conversation. This was a trap.
Every exit had been sealed before I'd even woken up. The hospital thought I was unstable. My baby was in another woman's home. And the man I'd trusted with my life was standing over me, asking me to sign away my son like returning a defective product.
"I will never sign those papers," I said.
Ryan stood, buttoning his jacket. "You will. Eventually."
He paused at the door. "Don't call Sienna's phone again. You're upsetting her, and she needs rest — bonding with the baby is exhausting."
*Bonding with my baby.*
The door closed behind him.
I sat there, alone in that sterile room, my incision throbbing and my breasts aching with milk my son would never drink from me.
Then I picked up my phone and called the only person I could trust.
Harper Price answered on the second ring. "Lily? Oh my God, I've been trying to reach you for days. Ryan told everyone you wanted no visitors—"
"Harper." My voice broke. "He took my baby."
Silence.
"He gave him to Sienna. He wants me to sign away custody. He told the hospital I'm mentally unstable. Harper, I can't get out of here, I can't—"
"Stop." Harper's voice was suddenly steel. "Don't sign anything. Don't say anything to anyone. I'm calling Dominic."
Dominic. Her older brother. A litigation attorney who hadn't lost a case in four years.
He was also the man who'd told me, three years ago on the night before my wedding, that Ryan Ashford would destroy me.
"Harper, I—"
"He'll be there within the hour. Don't. Move."
The line went dead.
"Get out," I said.
Ryan sighed — that long-suffering sigh he used whenever I was being "difficult."
"I know this is emotional for you. The hormones after birth—"
"Don't you dare." My voice was low but shaking. "Don't you dare blame my hormones for the fact that you stole my child and gave him to another woman."
"I didn't *steal* him." Ryan's jaw tightened. "I made a decision for the family. Sienna has been struggling for years. She had the nursery ready. She's been preparing—"
"She's been *preparing*?" The realization hit me like ice water. "How long has this been planned?"
Ryan looked away.
"How. Long."
"She found out she couldn't conceive about a year ago," he said quietly. "I couldn't just watch her suffer."
A year ago. I was four months pregnant a year ago.
The prenatal vitamins Ryan had carefully set out every morning. The nursery we'd painted together — soft yellow walls, a wooden crib he'd assembled with his own hands. The baby shower his mother had thrown for us.
All of it, a performance.
"You married me to breed a baby for your ex-girlfriend." The words sounded insane even as I said them.
"Don't be dramatic." His voice hardened. "I married you because I loved you. But things change. Sienna needs this more than you do."
I lunged for the call button, pressing it repeatedly. "I want my baby transferred back to this hospital *immediately*."
Ryan grabbed my wrist — not hard, but firmly enough. "Lily. Think carefully. I've already spoken with the hospital. Given your traumatic delivery, your blood loss, and your current emotional state, they've flagged you as high-risk for postpartum psychosis."
The room went cold.
"You told them I'm *psychotic*?"
"I told them you might need psychiatric evaluation before being discharged with a newborn." His eyes were steady. Practiced. "It's just a precaution."
This wasn't a conversation. This was a trap.
Every exit had been sealed before I'd even woken up. The hospital thought I was unstable. My baby was in another woman's home. And the man I'd trusted with my life was standing over me, asking me to sign away my son like returning a defective product.
"I will never sign those papers," I said.
Ryan stood, buttoning his jacket. "You will. Eventually."
He paused at the door. "Don't call Sienna's phone again. You're upsetting her, and she needs rest — bonding with the baby is exhausting."
*Bonding with my baby.*
The door closed behind him.
I sat there, alone in that sterile room, my incision throbbing and my breasts aching with milk my son would never drink from me.
Then I picked up my phone and called the only person I could trust.
Harper Price answered on the second ring. "Lily? Oh my God, I've been trying to reach you for days. Ryan told everyone you wanted no visitors—"
"Harper." My voice broke. "He took my baby."
Silence.
"He gave him to Sienna. He wants me to sign away custody. He told the hospital I'm mentally unstable. Harper, I can't get out of here, I can't—"
"Stop." Harper's voice was suddenly steel. "Don't sign anything. Don't say anything to anyone. I'm calling Dominic."
Dominic. Her older brother. A litigation attorney who hadn't lost a case in four years.
He was also the man who'd told me, three years ago on the night before my wedding, that Ryan Ashford would destroy me.
"Harper, I—"
"He'll be there within the hour. Don't. Move."
The line went dead.