He thought silence meant surrender.
Ten minutes later, my daughter entered the world screaming.
Seven pounds, one ounce.
A full head of dark hair.
Tiny clenched fists.
Perfect lungs.
When Kimberly laid her against my chest, I started crying so hard I could barely see her.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I whispered.
My daughter opened her eyes for one second.
Nathan stood six feet away.
He looked at her.
No smile.
No tears.
No instinct to come closer.
Nothing.
Then his phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
Vanessa quietly touched his arm.
Nathan looked at me.
“I’ll give you some time.”
I stared at him.
“With your daughter?”
“With everything.”
Then he left.
With Vanessa.
The father of my newborn child walked out of the maternity ward beside the woman who had given him the son he apparently valued more.
Kimberly looked furious.
“I am so sorry.”
I kissed my daughter’s forehead.
“Don’t be.”
And strangely enough, I meant it.
Because Nathan had just made the biggest business mistake of his life.
He had forgotten who had built the locks on the doors he thought he owned.
