My mind flashed to the forms Ryan had brought home two months earlier, the ones he had said were hospital paperwork. I had signed some. Not all. I had been tired. He had been impatient.
The room seemed to tilt again.
“Emily?” Claire said.
“I signed papers.”
Dad stood.
“What kind?” Claire asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Find out,” she said. “Find out immediately.”
After the call ended, Dad did not speak for a long moment. Then he walked to the small desk in the living room and opened the folder where he had placed every document from my apartment.
“We’re going through everything,” he said.
We worked until dawn.
There were insurance forms, billing statements, appointment reminders, and copies of documents I barely remembered seeing. Most were harmless.
One was not.
It looked ordinary at first. A medical authorization form. My signature sat at the bottom, shaky but unmistakably mine. Ryan’s name appeared in a section marked authorized representative.
Dad read it twice.
“This gives him access to medical information,” he said.
“That’s bad?”
“Not unusual for spouses. But this attachment…”
He lifted the second page.
I had no memory of signing it.
The language was dense, legal, and carefully phrased. It mentioned decision-making authority in the event I was incapacitated. It mentioned neonatal care. It mentioned temporary guardianship.
Temporary guardianship.
My hands went cold.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered.
Dad’s face had turned pale with controlled anger. “This needs an attorney.”
By breakfast, Ruth had contacted one.
By noon, we were in the office of Margaret Ellis, a family law attorney with sharp eyes and a voice that made panic feel less useful. She reviewed the forms while I sat across from her, one hand on my belly, the other gripping Dad’s sleeve like I was five years old again.
Finally, Margaret removed her glasses.
“This attachment is questionable,” she said. “Possibly invalid, depending on how it was presented and witnessed. But I do not like it.”
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“It means someone was preparing for a situation where your husband could speak for you and the child under very specific conditions.”
Dad’s voice was low. “Can we revoke it?”
“Yes. Today.”
I exhaled so hard my shoulders shook.
Margaret’s expression softened. “Emily, listen to me carefully. Paper can be challenged. Fear can be challenged. You are not without options.”
