A day later, Elise spotted a tall man at the reception desk holding a bouquet of lilies. He was handsome in a deliberate way—shirt crisp, smile rehearsed. When he entered Olivia’s room, the girl’s shoulders tensed before she forced a smile. “Daniel,” she said softly, as if testing the name.
Elise observed from the corner, pretending to arrange supplies. Daniel’s charm filled the space like cologne. It was noticeable and almost overwhelming. He thanked the staff, complimented the doctor, and made sure everyone knew he’d “been worried sick.” But his hand on Olivia’s shoulder lingered, pressing too firmly to be affectionate.
Olivia murmured polite things while her eyes darted between his face and the sleeping baby. When Daniel kissed her temple, she flinched so subtly that Elise almost missed it. Almost. Years of experience had trained her to read the language of fear disguised as love.
When Elise approached to check the baby’s vitals, Daniel stepped forward slightly. “You don’t need to take her away,” he said. His tone was smooth but threaded with steel. “She stays with us.” Elise smiled politely, professionally, but felt the chill of a boundary being drawn.
“It’s just a routine check,” Elise replied gently. Daniel’s jaw tightened. “I’ll bring her myself later.” Olivia’s eyes pleaded for Elise to let it go. Against instinct, she nodded and stepped back, her pulse quickening with quiet unease.
As the conversation drifted to feeding schedules and paperwork, Daniel kept his arm around Olivia’s chair like a warning. Elise noted every detail—the tension, the silence, the way Olivia’s laughter sounded more like permission than joy.
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