Chapter 1 The Name on the Wristband
Through the c***k in the door, I watched Newman Billy bend down and kiss Penny. He was impossibly gentle with her, as if the baby in his arms were something precious he'd finally gotten back.
Rose Bennett, his first love, moved closer, her eyes red. "If only we hadn't broken up back then..."
"Don't." His hoarse voice stopped her. "From now on, I'll make it up to you by giving this child everything she deserves."
I braced one hand against the wall. Still weak from childbirth, I was trembling so badly I could barely stay on my feet.
He wanted to make things up to Rose, and he was doing it by giving away my daughter.
The copy of the registration form was crumpled in my fist, but the name printed on it was still perfectly clear: Rosalie Billy.
While I was pregnant, he'd written the name Rosalie down himself and told me it was as beautiful as a flower.
I'd tucked that scrap of paper into my pregnancy journal, careful not to put so much as a crease in it.
So even her name had been chosen because of Rose.
I pulled out my phone, ready to call for help, when I heard the wheels of a bassinet moving inside the room.
Rose picked up my daughter while Newman bent down to straighten her coat. They looked ready to leave at any moment.
I opened my messages, sent my mother the hospital's location, and quickly typed out a warning.
Darlene: Mom, come get me and the baby. Newman is trying to give her away. Don't contact him yet.
Once it was sent, I wiped my tears away and pushed open the door. Rose's shoulders jerked.
Newman looked up, and the tenderness disappeared from his face almost at once. "It was just a few forms. What took you so long?"
He frowned as though I were the one who had done something wrong. "Darlene Billy, you're a mother now. Can you try to be a little more responsible? Rose hasn't taken her eyes off the babies once."
I looked at Penny in his arms and said nothing. Her electronic security tag was gone, and the paper band around her wrist had my daughter's name on it.
The two babies had been born on the same day, and even their round little faces looked similar.
"You don't look well," Rose said softly. "Are you tired?"
Still holding my daughter, she shifted slightly toward the window. It was a subtle movement, but enough to block my view.
"A little." I tightened my grip on my phone and stepped into the room.
I walked around Newman, trying to get a better look at my daughter. She was wrapped so snugly that only the tip of her chin was visible. I took another two steps toward the window.
