My baby’s tiny fist opened against my gown. I swallowed pain, rage, and the metallic taste of humiliation.
“His name is Owen,” I whispered.
Evan’s chair scraped loudly against the floor. “What did you say?”
Before he could rise, the door opened.
My uncle Simon walked in carrying a paper bag of apple muffins and wearing his old brown coat. He was seventy-two, half deaf, limping from a bad knee, and built like a retired school librarian. To Evan, he looked harmless.
To me, he had always looked like safety.
Simon stopped at the foot of my bed. His eyes moved from my face to my neck. The room changed. Not louder. Quieter. Like all the air had been sucked out of it.
“Who did this?” he asked.
Evan gave a short laugh. “Uncle, relax. Just showing her who the boss of this new family is.”
Douglas chuckled once, then stopped.
Simon set the muffins down. Slowly, calmly, he drew the curtains closed. Then he removed both hearing aids and placed them beside my untouched soup.
“Close your eyes, kiddo,” he said softly.
I didn’t.
I saw Douglas Harlan’s face lose all color the moment Simon’s sleeve shifted and revealed the faded military tattoo on his forearm: a black dagger through a broken crown.