The air inside the rehabilitation center was thick with the scent of antiseptics and stale coffee. The quiet murmur of voices and occasional beeps of medical equipment set the tone for the sterile yet heavy atmosphere. In one of the visitor rooms, a tense conversation was unfolding—a conversation that could change the fate of one little girl.
Isabel Carter, Alistair’s ex-fiancée, sat across from a tired-looking woman with hollow cheeks and dull eyes. The woman, Sam’s biological mother, Claire Turner, had been through hell and back. She was thinner than Isabel remembered, her once-vibrant auburn hair now dull and lifeless, tied back in a loose ponytail.
Isabel leaned forward, clasping her hands together. “Claire, listen to me. You don’t have to do this. I can help you.”
Claire exhaled he
