But the boy who stabbed me eighteen years later? The one who called me selfish, who twisted the knife my mother-in-law handed him, who helped destroy my life, had swollen, dark brown eyes.

I reached out, wanting and needing to hold him. But just as my fingertips brushed the edge of the swaddle, Eleanor bulldozed straight into Aunt Clara, slamming her shoulder and snatching the baby right out of her arms.

"Newborns' bones aren't fully developed! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?" the surgeon snapped, glaring at her with pure rage.

But that woman didn't even flinch. Her expression twisted into something smug and defensive.

"I've raised two kids of my own. Don't act like you know more than me about holding a baby," Eleanor shot back, like she was teaching the doctor a lesson.

Then she turned downright nasty.

"You think you're something special just because you performed a C-section? If my daughter weren't too busy, I wouldn't have needed someone from outside to deliver my golden grandson. So do us all a favor and stay in your lane."

Once she'd yanked the baby away, she backed off behind Paul like she had every right in the world to do what she did.

Paul, cold as ever, looked the doctor right in the eyes and said, calm as you please, "Dr. Jones, my mom just wanted a quick look at the baby. He's been born for a while now, and she hasn't even gotten to see him. Of course she's anxious."

Then came the kicker.

"We're transferring to my sister's department tomorrow anyway. There's no need for you to get involved in our family's business."

Translation? Back off. You're no longer needed.

The surgeon didn't say a word. She gave one last furious glare and stormed out of the room.

"That damn surgeon thinks she runs the place," my mother-in-law grumbled. "If she hadn't stuck her nose in, I'd already be holding my grandson."

Then her eyes landed on Aunt Clara.

"And you," she spat, her tone like venom, "don't forget who signs your paycheck. You work for my son, Paul, and not her. Don't even think about crossing me."

Eleanor then hugged the baby so tightly that his little face scrunched up, and then the wailing began. His tiny cries pierced right through me.

"Mom, the baby's crying," I said gently. "Let me hold him for a bit."

But she took two steps back like I was covered in disease.