"Don't you dare touch him." Vera's voice cut across the hospital room. Her arm dropped into the only open space and pushed Fernanda's hand away from Aiden like a wall. "He's mine," Fernanda hissed. She was loud as always, face flushed with the kind of entitlement that buys silence. "We paid for everything. You signed away—" "That signature is forged," Vera said. Her words were sharp and small. She had to force the rest through cotton in her mouth and the taste of iron at the back of her tongue. "Stop lying," Grant said from the doorway. He kept his chin lifted, as if his public smile could chip through the hospital glass. "Call security. Call the police. This—" "Shut up," Vera said. She wrapped both arms around Aiden and pulled him closer. He leaned into her like a small anchor. His hospital bracelet slipped against her wrist. He still smelled like antiseptic and the syrup they'd forced on him that morning. A monitor beeped. A nurse in blue scrubbed her hands and pretended not to pick sides. "Vera, you need rest," Carolyn said from the chair by the window. The neighbor's face was a map of old kindness. "You fainted earlier. Let them—" "Don't make me laugh," Fernanda snapped. She took a step forward. "Five million is not laughing material." "You're shaking," Grant added, voice sweeter than the anger in it. "If you push, we'll make a legal case. The