“Claire, what were they trying to do?”
Her voice dropped. “I think they were trying to make sure Ryan had legal control if anything happened during the birth. Over decisions. Over the baby. Maybe over money too.”
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.
