The silence in the luxury suite was deafening. Outside, thunder rattled the high-rise hospital windows, but inside, the temperature had dropped below freezing.

The collapse of the Ellis family's influence was swift, but wounded predators fight the dirtiest.

Realizing that legal avenues were closing, Andrew made a desperate move. Leveraging his status as the biological father, he attempted to use a rogue hospital administrator to quietly discharge Noah under his name while I was undergoing a necessary post-surgical ultrasound scan.

I was in the imaging room when my phone buzzed with an encrypted alert from my home security system and hospital tracking tags. The RFID smart-band on Noah’s ankle had crossed the threshold of the elevator bank.

“Stop the scan,” I ordered the technician, pushing myself up from the table despite the sharp pain shooting through my abdomen.

“Mrs. Ellis—I mean, Judge Monroe, you aren't cleared to walk!” the nurse cried out.

“My son is being taken,” I said. The adrenaline swallowed the pain whole.

I rushed down the third-floor corridor in my hospital gown and robe, blood dripping slightly into my surgical drain, but my stride was fierce. I reached the main lobby just as Andrew was hurrying toward the automatic glass doors, carrying a portable infant car seat with Noah wrapped inside.

“Andrew!” my voice echoed off the marble walls like a crack of thunder.

He froze, turning around with a look of pure terror. Beside him stood Arthur Ellis Sr., a silver-haired man in a bespoke suit, looking smug and unbothered.

“It’s over, Katherine,” Arthur Sr. said, stepping between me and Andrew. “You may be a federal judge, but this is a domestic matter. A father has every right to take his child home from the hospital. You can fight us in court, but by the time you get a hearing, Noah will be living safely with Natalie.”