"Hands off my child!" "Keira, stop thrashing. This is for all of us." "Let me go!" Keira screamed as two men held her down on the narrow bed. The room smelled of rubbing alcohol and winter air pushed through a cracked window. "You promised," Denise Garza said, calm and small as a ledger. "You promised you'd keep the family safe." "Family?" Keira spat. "You sold me. You sold my babies." Erik Murray's fingers were steady on a tablet. "We bought the clinic. We saved jobs. This is surgery, not punishment." Linda Lefevre stood with a syringe and a checklist. "An outpatient procedure. No complications. You'll be better—safer." "Safer for whom?" Keira twisted, tried to kick. Pain landed across her ribs. "You're talking like this is a business deal. I'm the mother." Denise didn't blink. "You made choices, Keira. You left. You let him go. We took a responsibility." "Responsibility?" Keira's voice cracked. "You mean you're protecting the contracts Erik signed. You mean you're protecting your comfortable life." A doctor in blue scrubs hovered by the lamp, sterile gloves on. He held a clipboard like armor. Keira watched him, searching for anything human. "Doctor, prep her," Linda ordered. "Vitals look good," the doctor said. His voice was neutral. He moved with practiced efficiency. Keira stared at his eyes. They held something she didn't expect: impatience, worry, then a quick flicker of decision. "Don't you dare," Keira snapped at Denise