I walked into the hospital alone to give birth, never expecting the doctor who delivered my baby would break down in tears the second he laid eyes on him.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.

Logan had gone pale when Robert said his mother was coming. He held Liam tighter, like he was afraid someone might try to take him away.

"How did she find out?" Logan asked, his voice tight.

Robert sighed, running a hand over his face. "She saw the credit card statements. The apartment, the things I've been buying for the baby. She put it together. And then she checked my phone while I was in the shower this morning. Found the messages I sent to the private investigator."

He looked at his son. "She's not happy, Logan. She's never dealt well with things she can't control."

Logan stood up, carefully handing Liam back to me. "I'll talk to her. She's my mother. She'll listen to me."

Robert shook his head. "You don't understand, son. Your mother… she's not the woman you remember. Losing Matthew broke something in her that never healed. And seeing this baby—seeing Liam, with Matthew's birthmark—it's going to unravel her."

Before either of them could say anything else, there was a sharp, authoritative knock at the door.

Robert exchanged a worried look with Logan, then went to answer it.

Standing on the doorstep was a woman who looked like she'd been carved from ice.

Eleanor Wright was tall, elegant, with silver hair pulled back in a severe bun. She was wearing an expensive coat and pearls, and her face was a mask of cold fury.

Her eyes swept past Robert and landed on Logan. Then on me. Then on Liam, who was still in my arms.

And for a moment, just a moment, her cold mask cracked.

She stared at Liam, and her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes widened, and I saw something in them that looked like pain. Like grief. Like madness.

"That birthmark," she whispered.

She stepped inside, pushing past Robert without a word, her eyes never leaving Liam. She walked toward me, her movements stiff, like she was in a trance.

"Eleanor," Robert said warningly, moving to stand between us.

She ignored him. Her eyes were fixed on the spot above Liam's left eyebrow.

"It's him," she breathed. "Matthew. He's come back to me."

My blood ran cold.

I held Liam tighter, taking a step back. "His name is Liam. He's my son."

Eleanor finally looked at me, and her eyes hardened. The grief was gone, replaced by cold calculation.

"Your son?" she said, her voice like shards of glass. "You think a girl like you can raise a Wright child properly? You think you can give him everything he deserves?"

"Mother," Logan said sharply, stepping forward. "That's enough. Joanna is Liam's mother. She loves him more than anything. And she's done a better job raising him alone than most people could do with help."

Eleanor turned her cold gaze on her son. "And where were you, Logan? Off running from your responsibilities, just like always. You left this poor girl to fend for herself, and now you think you can just walk back in?"

"I'm here now," Logan said, his voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Eleanor looked from her son to her husband, her eyes narrowing.

"And you," she said to Robert, her voice dripping with contempt. "You've been helping her behind my back. Paying for her apartment, buying her things. Did you ever stop to think about how this would affect me? Seeing that baby, with Matthew's face, Matthew's birthmark… do you have any idea what that does to me?"

Robert's face hardened. "It's not about you, Eleanor. It never has been. That baby is our grandson. And Joanna is family. Whether you like it or not."

Eleanor laughed, a cold, bitter sound. "Family? You think this is family? A girl we know nothing about, a son who abandoned us for years, and a baby who looks like the child we buried thirty years ago?"

She stepped closer to me, and I instinctively turned away, shielding Liam with my body.

"You don't know what you're doing," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You can't give him what he needs. A proper home. A proper family. Security. Everything that comes with being a Wright."

"He has love," I said, my voice stronger than I felt. "He has me. And now he has his father and his grandfather. That's more than enough."

"Is it?" Eleanor asked, her eyes glinting. "We'll see about that."

She turned to leave, then paused at the door.

"I want what's best for my grandson," she said, her voice cold. "And if you can't provide it, I will. By whatever means necessary."

She walked out, slamming the door behind her.

The room was silent.

Robert looked at us, his face grave.

"I warned you," he said quietly. "She won't let this go. She'll fight. And Eleanor always plays to win."

Logan came to stand beside me, putting a protective arm around my shoulders.

"Let her try," he said, his voice firm. "I'm not losing my son. Not now that I've found him."

But as I looked down at Liam, sleeping peacefully in my arms, I felt a cold knot of fear in my stomach.