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 next few weeks were a strange mix of joy and dread.

Logan moved into the spare bedroom of the apartment. He said he didn't want to push me, that he was happy just to be near Liam and me.

He was everything I'd ever hoped he could be.

He woke up with me for every nighttime feeding. He changed diapers without complaining. He read to Liam in silly voices, danced around the living room with him when he was fussy, talked to him like he could understand every word.

"He's going to be an artist," he'd say, watching Liam wave his hands in the air. "Look at those fingers. Made for holding a paintbrush."

Or: "He's going to be a doctor. Just like his grandpa."

Robert came over every night after work. The three of us would eat dinner together, talking and laughing like we'd been a family for years.

For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere.

But Eleanor was always there, a shadow hanging over everything.

She called Robert constantly, demanding to see Liam, demanding to be part of his life. When Robert refused, she started showing up at the hospital where he worked, causing scenes, making threats.

Then she started coming to the apartment.

She'd knock on the door at all hours, demanding to see her grandson. When we wouldn't let her in, she'd stand outside and yell, attracting the attention of the neighbors.

One day, I came home from the grocery store to find her sitting on the steps outside the building, waiting for me.

"Joanna," she said, standing up, her voice sickly sweet. "We need to talk."

I clutched the grocery bags tighter, Liam sleeping in his carrier against my chest. "I have nothing to say to you, Mrs. Wright."

"Oh, but you do," she said, stepping closer. "You think you can keep my grandson from me? You think you can just insert yourself into this family and take what's ours?"

"He's not yours," I said firmly. "He's mine. And Logan's."

Eleanor laughed, a cold sound. "Logan? He left you once. What makes you think he won't do it again? When things get hard, when the baby cries too much, when the responsibility becomes too heavy… he'll run. Just like he always does. And then what will you do, Joanna? All alone with a baby and no one to help you?"

Her words hit me like a physical blow. Because they were the same fears I carried in my own heart. The same doubts that woke me up at night.

"He's not going anywhere," I said, but my voice wavered.

Eleanor saw it. She smiled, a cold, triumphant smile.

"Think about it, Joanna. I can give Liam everything. The best schools, the best opportunities, security for the rest of his life. What can you give him? A waitress's salary and a father who runs from his problems?"

She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope.

"Fifty thousand dollars," she said, holding it out to me. "Cash. For you to start a new life. Somewhere far away. Somewhere where you can be happy. And Liam can stay here, with his family, where he belongs."

I stared at the envelope, my heart racing.

Fifty thousand dollars. More money than I'd ever seen in my life. Enough to pay off all my debts, to buy a house, to never have to worry about money again.

But the cost was Liam.

I looked up at Eleanor, at her cold, calculating eyes, and I felt a surge of anger that chased away the fear.

"You think you can buy my son?" I asked, my voice shaking with rage. "You think money means more than love?"

I pushed her hand away. The envelope fell to the ground, the cash spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Eleanor's face twisted with fury.

"You're making a mistake," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "If you won't do this the easy way, I'll do it the hard way. I'll take you to court. I'll prove you're an unfit mother. And I will take my grandson from you."

She turned and walked away, leaving the money scattered on the ground.

I stood there, my hands shaking, Liam still sleeping peacefully against my chest, unaware of the battle being waged over him.

When Logan and Robert got home that evening, I told them everything.

Logan's face went white with rage. "She did what? She tried to pay you off?"

He started for the door. "I'm going to talk to her. I'm going to make her understand—"

"No," Robert said, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Talking to her won't work. She's made up her mind. She's going to file for custody. There's no stopping her now."

He looked at me, his expression grave.

"We need to be ready, Joanna. She has money. She has connections. She'll do everything she can to make you look bad. To make all of us look bad."

I looked down at Liam, who was now awake, smiling up at me, completely unaware of the storm that was coming.

"I won't let her take him," I said, my voice steady now, filled with a mother's fierce determination. "I don't care how much money she has. I don't care who she knows. He's my son. And no one is taking him from me."

Logan sat down beside me and took my hand. His was warm and strong.

"We'll fight her together," he said. "All of us. She's not going to win."