I never told my mother-in-law I was a judge. To her, I was just a kept woman on unemployment. Hours after my C-section, she burst into my room with adoption papers, mocking me: “You don’t deserve a VIP room. Give one of the twins to my infertile daughter; you can’t handle two.” I hugged my babies and pressed the panic button. When the police arrived, she screamed that I was crazy. They proceeded to restrain me… until the chief recognized me…

“I’ll take him now,” she said matter-of-factly. “Karen’s waiting in the car. It’s better to do it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. You still get to keep the baby. Luna, right? Girls are easier anyway. You can dress her.”

Chapter 3: The Slap and the Button

“Get your hands off my son!” I yelled.

The raw volume of my voice startled her. I lunged forward and grabbed her wrist just as she lifted Leo from the mattress. The sudden movement sent a sharp pain through my gut that nearly made me faint.

“Let him go!” I yelled, digging my nails into his arm.

Mrs. Sterling shrieked. “You crazy bitch! You scratched me!”

With his free hand—the one that wasn’t holding my crying newborn—, he hit.

SMACK!

His palm slammed into my cheek. My head fell back against the pillows. The room spun. The taste of copper filled my mouth where I’d bitten my tongue.

“You insolent brat!” she roared, her face twisted and ugly. “I’m her grandmother! I have the right to decide where she goes! You’re nothing but an incubator! You should be grateful we’re letting you keep one!”

She pulled Leo harder. He was screaming now, a high-pitched, terrified cry that broke my heart. The IV lines connected to my arm tightened, threatening to tear out of my vein.

“Help!” I tried to shout, but my voice broke.