My name appeared at the top of each one.
There were psychiatric assessments, medical recommendations, and official-looking signatures. According to those documents, I was emotionally unstable, dangerously jealous, and potentially unable to care for my own baby.
None of it was true.
I had never met the doctors listed on the reports.
I had never undergone the evaluations.
And the signature at the bottom of the final page was not mine.
“You forged these,” I said, my voice unsteady from exhaustion but clear enough for everyone to hear.
Daniel leaned closer.
“You should have signed the postnuptial agreement when I gave you the chance.”
Lila folded her arms.
“Daniel warned me you would become dramatic.”
I looked toward the emergency call button attached to the side of the bed.
Before I could reach it, Daniel stepped between me and the control panel.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said quietly.
The gentleness in his voice was more frightening than shouting would have been.
He pointed toward the documents.
“You’ll be transferred for psychiatric observation after the delivery. Lila will be listed as the baby’s mother, and I will take full custody.”
