Damon’s patience vanished.
“Enough,” he said.
“She is twisting administrative mistakes into some conspiracy because she cannot accept that people are worried about her.”
He pointed toward the monitor.
“Look at her heart rate.
Look at the way she’s behaving.”
Nurse Patel stepped closer to the bed.
“Her heart rate increased when you grabbed her wrist.”
My father turned sharply.
“He touched her?”
“He restrained her when she reached for the call button,” Nurse Patel said.
“And at 6:10 this morning, he asked whether her medication could be increased before a notary arrived.”
Damon’s face hardened.
“I asked because she was in pain.”
“You said she needed to be calm enough to cooperate.”
The hospital compliance officer opened a tablet and placed it on the rolling tray.
The security recording showed Damon entering the maternity floor at 6:14 a.m.
He carried the document folder beneath his coat.
Seven minutes later, a notary arrived and signed the visitor log.
Damon met him near the elevator.
The recording had no sound, but the images were enough.
Damon pointed toward my room, then mimed a signature.
The notary never entered because Nurse Patel refused access while I was sedated and recovering from emergency treatment.
“You told me you arrived after nine,” my father said.
Damon’s jaw flexed.
“I came early and left.
I did not mention it because it was irrelevant.”
“You also told me Marin called you this morning demanding more money.”
“She did.”
Lena removed a phone report from the folder.
My phone had remained sealed in the hospital property safe from 3:42 a.m.
until 10:18 a.m.
I had been in surgery during the time Damon claimed I called him.
There was no outgoing call.
Damon looked around the room and realized that sympathy had stopped working.
So he changed tactics.
“Fine,” he said.
“Maybe I misunderstood when she called.
Maybe it was last night.
None of this changes the fact that Marin is not capable of managing a corporate empire while caring for an infant.
Richard knows that.
The board knows that.”
My father’s face went cold.
“The board does not decide whether my daughter is capable of raising her child.”
“No,” Damon said.
“A court can.”
The threat settled over the room.
He had finally said aloud what he had hidden beneath concern.
If the papers failed, he would challenge me directly.
He would portray me as unstable, use the withdrawal records as evidence of dependency, and ask for emergency custody.
With control of my proxy, he and Celeste could influence the family companies before anyone understood what had happened.
Damon looked at me with open contempt.
“You want a war eleven days after giving birth? Think carefully.
Every nurse, every medication, every emotional outburst becomes evidence.”
I adjusted the blanket around my daughter.
